Just Paw-sitively Purr-fect
by OogieBoogie
Summary: During an Auror mission gone wrong, Malfoy was turned into something not-human. And until they find a proper cure that won't kill him, he is placed under the care of one who has experience with such beings. Yes, Hermione Granger.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**Bunch o' wizards belong to J.K. Rowling. Story's mine, la di da di da.

**Rating:**M, eventually. HUEHUEHUEHUEHUEHUEHUE!

Hi! I hope everyone's well, and that you're all having a lovely, lovely September so far!

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.**

Those eyes were mesmeric, magical and sparkling. The kind of grey that _glows_ – the kind that can illuminate even the darkest of rooms with its ethereal beauty.

The same set of eyes that were currently pinning her with a glare full of hatred and of disdain even in its current, helpless form.

Whose eyes?

Why, Draco Malfoy's, of course!

Those orbs were peering at her with such enmity and antagonism behind the bars that currently held him. It was a sight that Hermione would have admitted to thinking about frequently almost six years ago, just after the war. She would picture her looking at Malfoy, held behind the prisons of Azkaban, looking at her the same way he was currently looking at her right at this moment. In that same scene that she had imagined, Malfoy, much to her regret, was never acquitted of his so-called crimes by the forever-prejudiced-Ministry, and he was sentenced to imprisonment for the rest of his life.

However, that was just imagination. And _truth is stranger than fiction_.

Hermione often heard of that saying, but never before had she encountered any situation that would made her believe in it more than what she saw before her eyes at this very moment, never before with so much conviction.

For the bars that held the infamous Draco Malfoy was not of Azkaban's, but of a small cage. Or to paint a more accurate picture, a _cat cage_.

And Draco Malfoy was a cat.

A white, furry Norwegian Forest cat to be exact … fitted with beguiling grey eyes – the only recognizable trait left of his.

"How on earth did this happen?" Hermione looked at Harry first, then to Ron, and back to Harry again. Both of them had a funny mixture of amusement and guilt written on their faces, it made them look almost constipated if anything.

"We told you, 'Mione," Harry said – whined. "The three of us were sent on an Auror mission to take Umbridge into custody – word was she was delving into some form of sick punishment for children now. We were told to retrieve her and when we appeared at her doorstep, she bolted, we ran after her and somehow during the whole thing, she had hit Malfoy with a spell that turned him into this … this …" he turned to Ron, asking for help, but Ron was already biting his lip in a valiant attempt to not laugh, but he failed miserably and started giggling. Harry started giggling as well, in spite of himself, and an answering angry hiss came from the cage in Harry's hands and a white, furry paw armed with sharp claws shot out of the bars, attempting to mutilate Harry's hands.

"Oh, grow up, you two," Hermione said waspishly, secretly hiding the effort to laugh in Malfoy's face – Malfoy's cat face – but that would be so very mean. It had, after all, happened to her back in second year during that Polyjuice accident.  
"But it's funny! I mean, Malfoy turned into a cat!" Ron started laughing, but it wasn't in a depreciating way, it was more good-natured. After the three of them had started working closely during Auror training, all the jibes and snide remarks were made in good humour. The three of them had formed an agreeable friendship with Malfoy. Malfoy was a frequenter to their weekly outings to the pubs, the Sunday dinners at Harry's, and so on and so forth.

Hermione and Malfoy had more of a rocky, tentative acquaintance. They talked when they met, and all encounters were short and brief and the only greeting they would give each other was just a nod and a mutter of each other's last names. She had figured that Malfoy was more like an acquired taste, and all they needed was time before they grew comfortable around each other.

At Ron's laughter, the same paw shot out of the bars and lunged at Ron, and Ron took a half-step back with an indignant "Whoa!"

"So yeah, we thought with your experience with Crookshanks," Harry continued slowly, diplomatically, "You'd be the perfect person to take care of him while the Potioners find a cure for him."  
"And why do they not have one at the ready?" Hermione asked.  
"Well, they do but the ones they have are just for mild Polyjuice accidents. This is a spell infused with Dark Magic, or so we think, considering it came from Umbridge. We don't want to take any chances," Harry finished.

"I see," Hermione said noncommittally, hunching a little and approaching the cage, so as to take a closer look at Malfoy.

"Hello there, Malfoy," she offered a mini-wave, and found that Malfoy retreated to the back of his cage slowly, into the darkness, until nothing could be seen except for his eyes that were currently glowing menacingly at Hermione. _Norwegian Forest Demon Cat, then._

Hermione took a deep breath and said evenly, "There's no need for that kind of behaviour, you know. I'm going to take care of you, and believe me, I am as excited as you are," she quipped.

She straightened up and Harry literally pushed the cage onto her.

"Hey!" she cried out.  
"Well, that's that. Thank you, 'Mione," Harry said in a breath, rushed forward to peck her on the cheek, and disappeared with a 'pop' right in front of her eyes.

Leaving Ron, alone, looking at her like a deer caught in headlights. He opened his mouth a couple of times but no sound came out.

"I … umm, Lavender … meeting her … umm, yeah," he stammered, and he also disappeared.

"Hey! What the _fuck_?!" Hermione called out to into the air.

She shook her head and brought her attention back to the cage that she currently supported. Walking back into her flat, she shut the door with her foot and tried her very best to not shake the cage, lest it annoyed cat-Malfoy.

Carefully and making as little movement as possible, she set the cage down and pulled the trap open. And she waited.

She was half-expecting Malfoy to zoom out of there and start running around frantically, meowing and howling as loud as he possibly could as a cat and shred her curtains into pieces.

What she didn't expect was silence. And that worried her, if only a little.

_Maybe he died of a heart attack._

"Malfoy? You umm, you may come out now," she said in a little voice, approaching the front of the cage bit by bit.

Nothing.

Just as she was about to get down on her knees and peer into the cage, out stepped a perfectly groomed, furry, white paw. She watched as the movement was followed by an unfurling of a long limb, followed by the other, and finally the head emerged, with ears sprung up in alertness.

Malfoy stepped out of the cage graciously, and it reminded Hermione of how human-Malfoy carried himself. Always so full of grace, so slick and so smooth. _Like a feline, of course._

Malfoy stretched leisurely, as if he owned the place, and then surveyed the place with roaming eyes and curious tilts of his head. After he was satisfied with his findings (or most probably, his judgements on how _plain _Hermione's house seemed), he sat quietly.

Cat-Malfoy really was a beautiful thing to behold. He looked like a royal cat – what with all that thick white fur and regal posture, the stand-offish air, the elegance and stealth all the same time. In all honesty, Hermione thought it was the same type of air he had around him when he was in human form. After all, that's what made Malfoy _Malfoy_. And that's what also made his human form all the more attractive.

No, Hermione wouldn't lie. Like any other right-minded woman, even she would agree that Draco Malfoy was indeed, well fit. Perhaps 'well fit' was an understatement, but she didn't want to go into thorough descriptions. Becoming obsessed with Malfoy would be the most inane thing to do, especially since he would never pay her any mind. Yes, Malfoy was sexy as hell, but that's that and that's where it should be left at.

_I mean, of course I don't pay any mind to how well his trousers fit, how it exquisitely frames his absolutely grab-worthy behind, and how broad his shoulders and how delectable he looks in button-down shirts and –_

Hermione's inner ramblings were cut off mid-way as the white head turned around and regarded her with indolent grey eyes.

_And those eyes too. Imagine what they looked like in throes of passion, or when he was angry or when he was fond of something …_

But the eyes currently looking at her were nowhere near passionate, not even remotely near angry and not even the slightest bit fond of what he was looking at.

It was more like was _bored_. Bored and currently looking into the depths of her soul. And that made Hermione uncomfortable.

"Well," Hermione cleared her throat, and started walking to her kitchen, "Let me show you around."

Much to her surprise, Malfoy followed without any fuss (again, she was expecting him to roll his eyes if it were possible and sulk in the corner), trailing behind her as she showed him her flat.

She took out Crookshanks' old litter box and made it fancier-looking for Malfoy, and positioned it right under the vanity in the bathroom. Hermione had no idea how to explain how to _use _the litter box to him, but he was watching her the entire time and she knew Malfoy was no idiot.

She also kept Crookshanks' old cat bed in the store room, so she Summoned it and placed it where Crookshanks used to sleep, right by her dressing table in the bedroom. She missed Crookshanks terribly, and she was meant to go get another cat … but it seemed like she had never got around to doing it. Perhaps after this Malfoy debacle clears up, she would take a visit to the pet store.

"So, yes, that's about it," Hermione said, after filling up Malfoy's water dish and turning to him. He was watching her expressionlessly, furry white tail swishing about. His whole air at that moment was screaming "_TOUCH ME!" … _(Then again, the air was the same when in human form).

_Oh dear_, Hermione thought, _he is extremely adorable._

Impulsively, Hermione bent down and reached out to touch Malfoy's head – maybe pet him a little because he was just _that _cute to not touch – and Malfoy noticed this, and he immediately lunged backwards before throwing her a haughty look and slinked away, tail high up in the air, as straight as a rod.

Hermione let out a huff of laughter and crossed her arms.

"Looks like you're still the same old Malfoy, even in cat form," she called out to him. He did not even stop or look back, opting to just ignore her and continue on his journey to god-knows-where.

Reminding herself that she needed to get groceries and cat food, she grabbed her coat and put on her shoes. She had half a mind to tell Malfoy where she was off to, but sensing a dangerous vibe coming from the balcony where he watched the streets below, she decided against it.

She bought the best cat food there is, because _what is a Malfoy if not a specimen of the finest quality and they should of course deserve everything of the finest quality_. She came across some toys for cats but she didn't think Malfoy would appreciate that, and might elect to claw her to death while she was sleeping, his cat voice meowing '_YOU THINK THAT'S FUNNY, HUH?'_

Getting everything that she needed sans cat toys, she Apparated back to her kitchen and set the groceries on the table, quietly procuring items she needed for that night's menu: fish and chips. In the midst of preparing her dinner, she glanced at the balcony, only to find that Malfoy wasn't there anymore. She moved out of the kitchen and glanced around her flat, wondering where the git had gone –

_Oh. There he is._

Malfoy was perched in front of her front door, watching it intently.

_Was he waiting for me to come home?_

No, that probably wasn't it. He probably hated his current form and wished for nothing more than to wait for Harry and Ron to come through with the cure.

Hermione sighed and sympathized with him.

"Malfoy?" she called out.

Wide, grey eyes turned towards her, as if surprised to see her there.

"What are you doing there?" she smiled, trying her best to be friendly.

Malfoy stood and walked towards her, watching her with wide bright eyes until he sat and licked his mouth.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you must be hungry," she said and quickly beckoned Malfoy to follow her into the kitchen. She opened the new packet of food and put some into his dish. "Bon appetit."

Malfoy merely looked at her, and his dish, and back at her before sniffing at the fish-scented pellets. He sniffed at it for long moments and sat, not eating.

Hermione frowned and left him alone – maybe he didn't like people watching him eat – so she finished cooking her own dinner. She set it at the table and went to collect a plate for herself. When she turned back to her table, she found Malfoy on the table already, sniffing her fish and chips with growing interest.

"Fish and chips," Hermione informed him, taking her seat directly opposite the great white cat, "You won't like it, I think. Not in your cat form, at least."

She took a great bite and munched slowly, watching Malfoy who watched her and her food.

"What's the matter, Malfoy? You don't like the cat food?" she asked, "They are the very best in the market, you know. After all, Malfoys deserve the very best, eh?"

The cat watched her and she swore he rolled his eyes and even shook its head a little bit – well, it was more blinking slowly and moving his head left to right, but it had to count. Hermione laughed a little.

"Well, I'm glad your human consciousness is still there somewhere, Malfoy. Otherwise I would have felt pretty silly saying all these things to a pretty white cat," she grinned.

Malfoy continued watching her and her food while licking his mouth, and Hermione finally broke.

She stood up, grabbed another plate, set it in front of Malfoy and cut a piece of fish and a couple of chips for Malfoy.

And Malfoy started eating.

Hermione's eyebrows almost disappeared into her hairline as she watched Malfoy eat his – _her _– food avidly, enjoying every bit of it.

"Human food then," she noted.

Malfoy looked up at her, licked his mouth meaningfully and went back to eating his dinner.

She continued with her own dinner, smiling ever so slightly at the picture they both currently made – a woman and a cat eating dinner off plates at the table.

Malfoy licked his plate clean and looked up at Hermione again, signalled her to his plate with a tilt of his head. Hermione laughed and gave him some more fish and chips.

"You're so cute, Malfoy," she grinned. He looked up at her between bites, and Hermione rushed to finish her sentence, "I mean, as a cat."

_As a human too, actually. But he does not need to know that._

After dinner, Hermione cleared the table and Malfoy snuck off elsewhere, and she went changed into her pyjamas and padded into the living room to get her daily dose of telly. They were showing a Muggle movie, and somewhere in the middle, Hermione noticed that Malfoy was watching from the doorway.

"Come sit on the sofa, Malfoy," she patted the space next to her. After many moments, Malfoy decided to get up and crept onto the seat next to her, watching the movie with a sort of fascination that belied any normal cat.

"Tell you what, I'll leave the telly on for you tomorrow when I go to work so you can watch, in case you get bored," she informed him.

Soon enough Malfoy was lying down, chin on his forepaws, eyes still trained on the Muggle movie. Hermione resisted the urge to card her fingers through that irresistibly touchable fur and concentrated on the movie.

At the end of said movie, Malfoy yawned widely and Hermione found that she had copied that movement after seeing it and switched the telly off.

"Time for bed," she announced quietly and got off the sofa and walked towards her bedroom. She left the door open just in case Malfoy followed, and true enough, he did. He jumped into the cat bed next to her dresser and made himself comfortable.

"Night night, Malfoy," she said before getting under her covers.

That night she had dreams of white cats with Malfoy's face on them.

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.**

Her alarm rang the next morning for work and she immediately grabbed her wand under her pillow and made a little flick with it. The alarm stopped and as she blinked groggily, she realized two very pertinent things. One, was that she had forgotten to draw the curtains shut last night. And two, she felt something very foreign behind her.

_That's weird_, she thought, _my neck feels heavier – and warmer._

She brought a hand up to the back of her neck, and immediately stilled when she felt soft fur brush her fingers. With absolute silence and minute movements, she turned her head ever-so-slowly.

All she saw was white – pure white. And it was breathing and purring and was radiating heat. It seemed to be in deep sleep.

Hermione bit her lip in an attempt not to laugh out loud. Malfoy had moved from his cat bed onto hers and fell asleep right behind her neck.

"This is going to be interesting," she whispered.

**Read and review please! Teehee!**

**If you're interested, I've put as the cover of this story a picture of what I imagined Draco to be like in his cat form.**


	2. Chapter 2

Stealthily, she moved out of the covers, glancing every now and then at Malfoy whose white furry body moved up and down rhythmically according to his breathing. Unfortunately, Hermione's right foot got stuck in the blanket and she almost fell off the bed had she not caught herself in time. As a result of this, she landed back onto the bed, causing it to jiggle almost violently.

A white furry head perked up at this and looked at Hermione, almost accusingly. Hermione paused her efforts in untangling her foot from the bed and grinned at Malfoy sheepishly.

"Sorry, go back to sleep," she said apologetically.

Malfoy simply looked at her with eyes that were so narrowed that only grey slits remained and he turned his nose up in the air before positioning his head on his paw, shutting his eyes completely.

_Not a morning person then_, Hermione noted.

Overlooking the fact that Malfoy decided to share the bed in the middle of the night, she started to get ready for work, remembering to put some _human snacks_ in Malfoy's dish and leaving the telly on for when he wakes up.

_He sounds more like a husband than a cat right now_, her mind supplied treacherously.

Glancing around her flat and making sure she didn't forget anything for herself and for Malfoy, she put up the wards and Apparated directly into the Ministry's atrium.

Working in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, in the International Magical Office of Law, there really wasn't anything much to look forward to, Hermione mused. It was just reports after reports and paperwork after paperwork, and many legal terms that Hermione memorized easily, given her exceptional brain.

When she met Ron and Harry for lunch at the Ministry cafeteria, however, she would much prefer to hear them relay stories about their missions because they were infinitely more thrilling than "leaving school just to write more essays", as Ron had less-than-elegantly put it.

"_So_," Ron began, tearing open the plastic wrappings off his alien-looking sandwich. It looked like a complicated concoction of a truck of cheese, bacon, pickles and strawberry jam. It kind of reminded Hermione of something that got run over by a car, she mused.

Both she and Harry watched Ron's sandwich with a cross between fascination and befuddlement as a large portion of it disappeared into Ron's mouth.

"So?" Hermione asked, taking a bite of her own more delicate-looking tuna sandwich.  
"How's Malfoy the pussy?" Ron said with a grin, making Harry choke on his orange juice, send sprays of it all over the table and causing Hermione to thump him on the back repeatedly and rub soothing circles.

"Thanks, 'Mione," Harry said hoarsely, before laughing and throwing Ron's ball of plastic wrapping back at him, "You timed that, you wanker."  
Ron laughed, "I wanted to see how you would react if I said it _while_ you were drinking."

"But yeah, how is that going?" Harry asked, turning to Hermione.  
"It's been okay."

They both slumped with defeat and disappointment for a bit before shrugging.

"What? What were you two expecting, actually?" Her eyes narrowed, looking at the both of them suspiciously.  
"Nothing, just didn't imagine Malfoy to be the complacent type," Harry admitted.  
"Well, you would be complacent too if you were turned into a cat, unable to talk and do anything that you please," Hermione huffed, "And that's very mean, making fun of him like that."

"Oh come off it, Hermione," Ron rolled his eyes, "It's just a joke."  
"Speaking of him, have you managed to contact the Potioners about the cure yet?"  
"Yeah we went to see them today and told them of the situation. One of them might come over to get a sample of Malfoy's hair – fur, to be exact, so they could start on their research," Harry answered.  
"I see," Hermione nodded.

"What does Malfoy do?" Ron asked curiously. "I mean he doesn't go meowing in the middle of the night like some rabid cat or tear your curtains into pieces, right? So what does he do exactly?"  
"I'm not entirely sure what he does when he disappears, but he eats human food instead of cat food, he ate at my dinner table _with_ me last night, and he watches the streets from the balcony, and …" She paused, perhaps she should conveniently leave out the little fact that Malfoy actually slept behind her neck last night.  
"And?" Ron pressed.  
"And he ignores me most of the time, just like his usual self," Hermione said briskly, taking another bite of her sandwich.  
"Well, Malfoy sounds like a boring cat," Harry grinned.

_No, not really. I wonder what he's doing right now. _

Throughout the remainder of the day, Hermione found herself constantly thinking about Malfoy, what he could possibly be up to and also realized that she could not wait to get home and see Malfoy.

The cat, of course. The cat. Not Malfoy.

_But Malfoy IS the cat, _her mind taunted.

"Shut up," she growled at nobody in particular, scribbling furiously in her office, trying to ignore the strange bubble of excitement forming in her stomach.

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.**

She arrived back home with an almost inaudible 'pop' and went to hang her coat, all the while keeping an open eye for any signs of Malfoy.

He wasn't in the balcony, though, and Hermione secretly hoped that he didn't fall over and die – despite the fact that cats would always, always land on their feet and that she only lived on the second floor.

_But what if a car decided to drive by, and Malfoy fell over and got run over by it?_

Instantly, Hermione regretted renting a flat in Muggle London.

_Well, shit_.

Just then, her ears caught the distant sound of music. It was a cheerful, jazzy kind of music coming from the living room. She crept to the doorway, and she suddenly could not stop the grin from forming on her face.

Malfoy was seated directly in front of the telly, captivated by the lovely colours and motion. Apparently, Disney's Aristocats was playing and it was currently showing the scene where all the cats were singing and dancing to jazz music – the song was called _'Everybody Wants to Be a Cat'_, if Hermione recalled correctly.

And Malfoy's tail was tapping and swishing according to the rhythm of the music, head following every movement on the telly.

Leaning against the doorway, Hermione crossed her arms and was still grinning, "Didn't know you liked jazz, Malfoy."

Malfoy's head turned towards her, looking very pleasant at that very moment. Had he been human, Hermione had a feeling that that would be like Malfoy turning to give her a small smile. His head turned back to the telly and Hermione left him alone, proceeding to busy herself with dinner.

Almost an hour later, Malfoy came prancing into the kitchen looking like he was the king of the world and proceeded to groom himself while waiting for food to get ready.

Just like the night before, he jumped onto the table, where Hermione had laid a plate for him. She had scooped a good amount of dinner unto his plate before grabbing some juice from the refrigerator.

Surprisingly, Malfoy waited until she got her own portion of dinner and seated herself opposite himself before he started on his dinner. Hermione was impressed by this. _Looks like Malfoy didn't forget his manners, even in cat form. _

"Do you like cereals, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, and Malfoy looked up at her. A rough, masculine _meow_ came from the general direction of his mouth and Hermione almost gaped.

That was the first time she ever heard Malfoy meow. The absurdity of all it made her laugh and she dropped her fork before clapping in amusement. She almost teared up at the adorability of it all as well as the _strangeness_ of it all, but she tried to get herself under control immediately after spotting that demonic look come back to mar Malfoy's beautiful cat features again.

He threw her a dirty look, snarled at her and continued biting at his dinner pugnaciously.

"Aww, come on, Malfoy," she said, "I'm sorry, it was just …"

Malfoy ignored her and continued gnawing.

She reached out to touch his ear, expecting him to back away and possibly claw her fingers off her hand, but he didn't. He only paused in his eating for a split second before continuing.

Hermione took this as an encouragement, so she began carding her fingers through the soft fur of his head, careful not to disrupt his dinner.

Malfoy felt heavenly beneath her fingers and somehow admiring how soft his fur made her calmer, happier and even content at that moment. So was Malfoy, if the fact that he actually paused eating his dinner to duck his face and nudge Hermione's hand were anything to go by. Hermione grinned in response, and continued her ministrations – her _very _enjoyable ministrations.

She considered commenting on the situation with something like, "You should let me touch you more often," but she decided against it. One reason being that it sounded so very wrong, and she didn't want to explain her seemingly double entendre and the other being that Malfoy would probably realize what he was allowing her to do and snap out of it, deciding to never let her come near him again.

After long moments of scratching the fur beneath Malfoy's chin (his eyes were shut blissfully), she finally decided to stop and continue with her dinner.

"So, back to the question … do you like cereals? Since you're probably never ever going to meow again, just blink once if it's a yes, and twice if it's a no, alright?" Hermione suggested, "That would make communication between us easier."

Malfoy watched her for a jiffy before blinking once.

"Alright, that's settled then. I'll leave some cereal for you in your dish in case you get hungry while I'm at work."

And then they finished dinner in silence.

Hermione began to clear the plates and began washing the dishes while Malfoy began grooming himself, _again_. Seeing that, Hermione rolled her eyes. _Honestly, how many times does he have to groom himself? Probably the same amount of times as when he's human._

Mid-washing, she felt her wards shift a little and made a soft, whooshing sound.

Hermione frowned. The shifting and the whooshing sound signified the presence of a witch or a wizard right in front of her door, but she didn't know who it was. If it were Ron and Harry, they would have just Apparated into her house without any warning (kind of rude, really. What if she was walking around the house naked?).

She continued to feel the presence with her magic and she continued to watch her front door, before the sound of her doorbell echoed throughout her house. Malfoy stopped making himself pretty at the moment and watched the door as well.

Maybe it was one of the Potioners, coming to collect samples from Malfoy.

"Be right there!" she called out.

Hermione quickly wiped her hands with the kitchen towel and walked towards her front door, Malfoy trailing behind her, tail standing.

She didn't bother taking her wand, because the wards didn't alert her to anything hostile. And even if it were something or someone dangerous, the wards would fully protect her before she Summoned her wand.

If all else failed, she could always toss Malfoy onto the person's face before grabbing her wand.

Twisting the knob in her hand, she pulled the door open.

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.**

_So handsome_.

That was the first thought that came to Hermione's mind when she opened the door to the visitor. And it took her a mere few seconds to recognize who that handsome face belonged to. Or … who belonged to that handsome face? Whatever, her brain wasn't working properly at the moment.

"Oliver Wood?" she said disbelievingly, eyeing the fit man standing right in front of her, who was sporting the most charming smile.

He was wearing a black button-down shirt and dark blue jeans, a pair of Converse covering his feet. He looked like every bit of a teenage girl's fantasy and then some.

Hermione vaguely remembered girls in her year whispering indecent things about his lips and his behind and his arms and everything – including naughty allusions about his last name – as well as extremely cheesy things like "he truly is what sweet dreams are made of!"

"Hermione Granger," he grinned, holding out his hand. "Hello there."  
"Hi!" Hermione said a little too excitedly and rushed to shake his warm, masculine hand.

Come on. _Every girl in Hogwarts_ had a crush on him when he was a young boy. Now he was a Quidditch Star and a handsome man, Hermione didn't think that it would be any different.

"What – what are you doing here?" Hermione asked.  
"Well, I just rented the apartment next to yours, actually," he still had that grin on.

"Oh yeah … yeah, that one's been vacant for quite a while," Hermione said uselessly.

Oliver Wood raised his eyebrow in amusement before answering, "I know."

_Shit. Fuck. Very smooth, Hermione._

"But why here?" Hermione teased, recovering quickly, "You're a Quidditch star, aren't you? Surely you can choose anywhere in the world."  
"That's exactly why," Oliver answered, "I wanted somewhere simple and quiet, and looks like this is it. I knew and felt that someone magical stayed here as well but I didn't know it was you."

"I see," she smiled. "What have you been up to besides Quid – oh shit, where are my manners? Would you like to come in?"

_Rude AND currently experiencing verbal diarrhoea, _Hermione berated herself.

"I would love to," he smiled a magnificent, blinding smile and Hermione melted. Which part of her melted, she didn't want to ponder. "But I don't think your cat likes me."

He pointed behind her and true enough, Malfoy was there – sitting and watching the exchange between Oliver and Hermione with narrowed, demonic eyes, a dark and dangerous vibe surrounding him.

"Oh, no, he's just like that," Hermione insisted, "He's a very special cat. He's got a fascinating personality of his own. Unlike any other cats I've ever met, to be honest."  
"I can tell," he nodded, looking at Malfoy in amusement, "What's his name?"

_Draco Malfoy._

"Dra -" Hermione caught herself in time and thought of the first thing her eyes locked on – which was the third button on Oliver's black shirt (_so sexy_). "Buttons."  
"Buttons?"  
"Yes, his name is Buttons," Hermione repeated, casting a glance at Malfoy, who was still watching Oliver threateningly, his tail flicking dangerously.

"Quite an expectedly adorable name for something so ominous, don't you think?" he laughed, his Scottish accent making Hermione practically melt into the doorway to amalgamate with the wall. Hermione laughed in response, standing up properly.

"No, I would love to come in, but I'm afraid that I have to go say hi to the other tenants as well," he offered. "I'll come by one of these days when I'm not too busy moving everything in. Maybe for tea."  
"Oh, definitely," Hermione beamed brightly.

"Promise," he winked at Hermione and took a step back, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he did so, "Bye, Hermione Granger." Then he took one hand out and waved behind her, "And bye, Buttons!"

An angry hiss came from behind Hermione and she rolled her eyes.

"Bye," she smiled, and he strutted off. Hermione watched him for a few moments before shutting the door.

"Well, that was interesting," she giggled, feeling very giddy for some reason, "Don't you think?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes lazily at her before slinking off, arse high in the air.

Hermione shrugged and finished washing the plates and then ritualistically changing into her pyjamas and jumping onto the sofa for some telly. Malfoy joined her this time, sitting next to her and didn't mind at all when Hermione began petting him, almost lulling him to sleep.

When the movie was over, and Malfoy was asleep next to her, she got up and switched off the telly. Malfoy woke up at this and followed her into the bedroom.

Hermione came back from the bathroom after brushing her teeth, thinking about her unexpected meeting with Oliver Wood earlier on and couldn't stop a grin from breaking out across her face.

She sighed almost happily, at the fact that she had just met her teenage crush again and that he was currently her neighbour … which would mean that she would definitely be seeing _a lot _of him.

Malfoy, of course, was watching her throughout her entire inner ramblings and was shooting judgemental looks at her the whole time.

"_What?_" she demanded, hands on her hips.

He ignored her and turned his head away from her before resting it on his paw.

_Git._

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.**

When Hermione awoke the next morning, she smiled.

For that familiar softness and warmth had parked itself at the back of her neck, again.

**TBC!  
Read and review, please! Heehee.**


	3. Chapter 3

Saturday morning found Hermione Granger listlessly lying down on the sofa, watching some drama on the telly. She was up about four hours ago and had since then been on a movie marathon. Somehow, she discovered herself waiting for Malfoy to wake up.

Then she heard her bedroom door creak open a little bit.

_Speak of the devil._

She usually left the door open so that Malfoy could get out, but she had always figured pompous Malfoy would throw his weight around and open it wider, just because he can. It had only been a week since Malfoy had, quite literally, _catwalked_ into her flat and already she felt like he owned the place more than she did. When the Potioners came over to collect samples of hair from Malfoy, he confidently walked towards them and patiently waited for them to snip off a little bit of his fur and get some blood sample, all the while with his nose up in the air.

Quite suddenly, the face of the heroine on the telly was blocked by a mass of white passing through just to pause right directly in front of her line of vision.

"Hello, Grumpy," Hermione greeted.

Said mass of white's head turned to look at her and as expected, he did look grumpy. However, Hermione noticed, it wasn't out of spite or anything – his eyes _were_ narrowed of course, but he was blinking plenty, trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes and clear his vision.

It made quite an adorable picture, Hermione mused, smiling lopsidedly. He fully turned towards her, looking at her, and then at the sofa, and then back at her.

She knew what he wanted, and she was too lazy to move to make room for him. So, she hoisted him up and then dropped him on the space next to her lap, with his front paws landed directly on her clothed thigh. If Malfoy had complaints about the previous treatment, he didn't get to voice it out – _not like he can anyway – _because his eyes shut as Hermione began to scratch his head.

Lost in bliss, he began to knead Hermione's thigh with his paws, head coming to meet Hermione's hand. And then his claws came out in time with his kneading so it was inadvertently him puncturing Hermione's thigh.

"Ouch, Malfoy," Hermione carped softly. It didn't hurt as much as it would have if she didn't have anything covering her thigh, but occasionally his claws would pierce the material and stab her skin. She half-expected Malfoy to send her a maniacal look and sink his claws into her deeper, but all he did was rest his head on top of his paws that in turn were resting on Hermione's thigh, and closed his eyes, sighing deeply.

"Back to sleep?" Hermione chuckled. _Needless to say, cats sleep throughout seventy percent of their lives – and that's probably around 19 hours a day._

That made Hermione wonder how much did the real Malfoy sleep? And then somehow, without her brain's permission, the image warped into the real Malfoy sleeping on her lap – _whoa, how did that get there so fast? _– and despite deducing that the picture of Malfoy, all shocking white-blond hair and pale skin and all that had his head in her lap while napping, made a weird oh-my-god-that-will-never-ever-happen train of thought go through her, she couldn't help but blush at how domesticated, sweet and romantic all that seemed.

She shook her head out of her reverie and continued watching the movie. Not long after, her eyes became heavier with how cosy a position she was currently in, especially since some white cat was radiating comfortable warmth.

She was already on the precipice of falling asleep, tumbling into unconsciousness, completely missing two almost-inaudible sounds of 'pop', and then –

"'_MIONE!_" came a loud, blaring voice, "_OH, 'MIONE!_"

Hermione's eyes snapped open, and so did Malfoy's.  
"Shh, shut the fuck up Ron, what if she's sleeping?!" came the voice of Harry Potter.

"Who would sleep at this hour?!" Ron almost-shouted. "HEY, 'MIONE! YOOHOO! Where are you?"

Hermione straightened into a seated position, throwing her hand at the back of the sofa to glare at the quite-intruders currently standing in the middle of her flat.

"_WHAT?!"_ she answered irritably.

"Oh, there you are!" Ron said too-cheerfully, swinging a small, securely-wrapped bundle in his hands.  
"You ought to be careful with that, Ron. You might spill the potion inside," Harry warned, shaking his head at Ron. Ron grinned at him sheepishly before setting the bundle on the table.

Hermione rolled her eyes and got up to stand, walking towards them.  
"Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what the fuck did I say about at least _warning _me that you two are coming over?" Hermione scolded, hands on her hips and right bunny-slippered foot tapping (she had put a charm on it now so that it could not be damaged, because Malfoy had ruined it the first few days he arrived. She fixed it and placed an indestructible charm on it, much to Malfoy's disconsolation).

"I know that's what I said to Ron earlier on but _no_," Harry said, dragging out the 'no' and glaring at Ron, "He prefers to do it like he usually does!"  
"But it's 'Mione, Harry," Ron began to protest.  
"And a woman," Hermione interjected, "What if I had been walking around naked?"

Ron burst out laughing at that, and Harry had to step on his foot before Hermione hexed him with something incredibly painful.

"If you were naked, 'Mione," Ron said, muffling his laughter, "I think Harry and I would be the least of your concerns, I think Malfoy would be at the top of that list."

Hermione was about to throttle him to death, but Harry stood in between them, being the diplomatic bloke that he is, and changed the topic, "Speaking of Malfoy, where is he?"

Just then, the three of them turned to the sofa, where a very pissed-off-looking Malfoy was perched on the top of the sofa, claws digging into the cushions for support with his tail curling dangerously.

"Well, hello there, mate," Harry grinned, walking towards him and ruffling the fur at the top of Malfoy's head. "How are you doing?"

Malfoy just looked at him grouchily but made no attempt to mutilate Harry's hand. Hermione watched with interest, always suspecting that Malfoy liked Harry better than Ron. _Well, everybody likes Harry better than Ron – that git_.

"Oh, hey Malfoy! Here pussy, pussy, pussy!" Ron laughed, also attempting to get closer to Malfoy, but Malfoy's eyes almost flashed red for a bit before Malfoy launched himself at Ron. Ron yelped in shock but wasn't fast enough to throw Malfoy off. Malfoy sunk his claws into Ron's shoulders and began to use one paw with extra evil-looking claws to strike Ron's face.

"_MALFOY!"  
"MALFOY!"  
"MALFOY!"_

Three voices chorused – Ron in an indignant and almost-fearful manner as he dodged the attack by mere centimetres, Harry in an amused tone and Hermione in a surprised one.

"GEDDITOFF, _GEDDITOFF!" _Ron wailed frightfully.

Harry was too busy clutching his stomach as he doubled over in laughter, and Hermione stormed towards Ron, yanking Malfoy off Ron.

"_Fucking cat!" _Ron howled, rubbing his hands all over his face as he checked for injuries. "Do I have blood anywhere?"

"Oh, come off it Ron, you deserved that and you know it," Hermione hissed at him, with Malfoy growling at Ron in her arms.

"Why, you _little -_" Ron said, looking redder than his hair and advancing with his hands looking like he wanted to strangle Malfoy.  
"_RON!_" Hermione shouted as she turned slightly to the side, acting as a shield with her arms tightening around Malfoy protectively.

"Ron, you've already done what you originally came here to do, so let's just be off and not prolong the itinerary," Harry said tactfully. Ron seemed to calm down at that and shot a glare at Malfoy before walking over to the table.

Hermione put Malfoy down on the carpet gently, watching Ron as he walked back to her with the same small package he had brought earlier.

"This is the cure for Malfoy," Ron said, and Hermione took the proffered package.  
"Oh, that's wonderful," Hermione answered, looking at Malfoy who was currently seated next to her bunny-slippered foot and watching the package intently, "You'll be free!"

Ron snorted at that.

"And then maybe, you can finally beat the hell out of Ron properly," Hermione said cheerfully. Malfoy's eyes landed on Ron after what Hermione said, and it narrowed deviously.

Ron gulped and walked to stand next to Harry, as if for extra protection.

"You need to inject Malfoy with that though," Harry informed her, and Malfoy's ears perked up.  
"Oh?" Hermione looked at the package before ripping off the wrappings. She opened the box and saw a vial that held faintly-glowing turquoise liquid in it. Placed next to it was a needle syringe, wrapped in airtight plastic.

"That's almost Muggle," Hermione grinned, referring to the needle syringe.  
"Well, yes, they thought that Malfoy would take too long to sip it, being in a cat form and all, so yeah," Harry said, "It would be better to just inject it straight into his blood system."  
"Alright then," Hermione nodded.  
"Before he sleeps tonight," Harry added.  
"Okay," she nodded again, placing the box in one of the empty shelves, "I'll remember to do that."

"Well, we'll be off then," Harry said with finality. Hermione nodded and kissed him goodbye on the cheek before hugging Ron and doing the same.  
"Stop being such an idiot," Hermione said fondly and ruffled Ron's hair, to which he grinned sheepishly.

"Bye, 'Mione," Ron said.  
"And let us know what happens," Harry asked, pointing at Malfoy.  
"I will. Bye, you two," she waved.

With two 'pop's, they both disappeared.

"Well, Malfoy, that's very good news for you then," she grinned at Malfoy, who was preening. "Tonight will be the end of your misery."

_And the end of your company_, Hermione thought regretfully.

Somehow Malfoy had grew on her, somehow she had got used to this cat with a personality. _Would it be the same then after he reverts back to his normal form? Probably not._

Wistfully, Hermione realized that she wouldn't mind taking the time to get to know Malfoy. And that happened after he had turned into a cat. If she was able to live with the judgemental looks and the insolent behaviour around the house, she could handle almost anything Malfoy threw her way, she thought.

_We shall see, shall we?_

"Now, what shall we do?" Hermione hummed, "What do you think of pancakes?"

Immediately, Malfoy stopped mid-grooming and licked his mouth.

"Well that's settled then, let's have some pancakes," Hermione smiled brightly. Pancakes on a Saturday afternoon sounded ideal at that moment.

"Oh no, don't stop on my account," Hermione jeered at Malfoy who had stopped cleaning himself, "Do keep making yourself look pretty. I'll let you know when pancakes are done."

With an eye-roll from Malfoy, she laughed and rolled up her sleeves.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.

"Would you like more honey with that?" Hermione offered while chewing on savoury pancakes.

Malfoy just moved back from his plate a bit and allowed Hermione to squeeze more honey on top of his half-mauled pancakes.

"I should probably make more," Hermione said as she eyed the last pancake left on the plate, before getting up and getting to work.

"So I was thinking, Malfoy," Hermione began as she flipped the pancake on the pan, "Maybe, after you turn back to your normal self, we should umm," she gulped. Why did she start this again? "Maybe we should grab a drink somewhere, sometime."

Hermione waited for an answer, and before she let herself feel defeated, she vaguely remembered that Malfoy can't _really _respond to that. She glanced at him and found that he was already watching her.

And as clear as the day, Hermione saw him blink once.

'_Yes'._

Hermione smiled, "Great."

And then she realized how fast her heart was beating and she took a deep breath to calm herself down.

_Oh come on, girl. You're already getting worked up over him when he's in his cat form, how else are you going to handle him when he's himself again?_

Hermione bit on her lip. Oh, that would probably be really difficult.

Draco Malfoy, in all his handsomeness. Grey, intense non-cat eyes, lovely nose and equally lovely lips. His smell, his air, his whole person, really.

Something in Hermione growled at that thought, and it wasn't her stomach.

Hermione had just scooped up a couple of pancakes onto the empty plate on the table before taking one for Malfoy, who had just diligently finished the one before and was waiting for another.

"Your appetite -" Hermione was about to comment, but got cut off by the sound of the doorbell and some sort of pressure on her wards. "Now who _is _that? Today seems like 'Bother Hermione Day'."

Hermione walked over to her door and swung it open.

"Hello, Granger," a charming, boyish, Scottish accent voiced.

Hermione's eyebrows raised a little.

"Oh, hey, Wood," Hermione greeted.  
She had totally forgotten all about Oliver Wood and his existence.

Which is quite a feat, really – because who could forget Oliver Wood just like that? After all, it had only been days since she saw him after a long time.

Obviously, her mind had been preoccupied by something.  
Something that was currently wolfing down pancakes in the kitchen.

"You look a little surprised to see me," Oliver commented with a smile, "Have you forgotten all about me?"

Just then, a bang resounded from the kitchen.

"No! Not at all, I just, umm," she began to think about what to say to him while wondering what on earth had happened to Malfoy in the kitchen.  
"Oh, so you did," Oliver brought a hand to his chest, "I'm hurt, Granger. I did say I'd come by to visit you for tea. I thought since I just got done with everything, I'd come by and fulfil my promise today. Unless you're busy?"

"Oh, no, not at all," she said courteously, opening the door wider to welcome Oliver in, "I was just having pancakes."  
"Alone?" he grinned.  
"No, with my cat," she answered happily.  
He threw his head back as he laughed and that made quite a fetching picture, but it did nothing to Hermione for some reason.

A few days ago, she was namby-pamby about the whole thing – a sexy man beast turned into literally a small beast was living with her and a very handsome old-Hogwarts-now-world celebrity living next door to her and she couldn't contain herself.

But now, despite how good Oliver looked in his current dark grey shirt and jeans and shoes, she really didn't have any reaction to that. _Hmm, strange._

"Am I interrupting something, then?" Oliver asked, "Like some bonding thing going on between you and Buttons?"  
"Who?"

"Buttons, your cat," Oliver raised an eyebrow, "Is that not his name?"  
"Oh yeah! Yeah, Buttons," she cleared her throat, "That is his name. And no, you're not interrupting anything. We're only having pancakes. Do join us."

"Love pancakes," he grinned broadly.  
"Then you and Malf-ma, Buttons will get along just fine," she grinned, aware of the slip of the tongue earlier.

She led him into the kitchen, and found that the honey syrup bottle had tumbled onto the floor, thankfully not spilling.

She threw a suspicious look at Malfoy, who had a gush of an ungodly amount of syrup on his plate.

"Buttons, we have a guest," Hermione announced and Malfoy's head turned towards the kitchen entrance.

Immediately, Malfoy's eyes narrowed and he started hissing.

"Nice to see you too, Buttons," Oliver grinned but was smart enough to not try and touch Malfoy, because Merlin knows what he would do.

"Have a seat and I'll grab you a plate," Hermione said, throwing a warning look at Malfoy as Oliver sat next to him.  
Somehow, as Hermione went to procure a plate for Oliver, she felt a weird atmosphere behind her. She turned to see one Oliver Wood staring around her kitchen, and Malfoy was looking at him threateningly while chomping on his pancakes.

Hermione set the plate in front of Oliver and urged him to help himself.

"Mmm, delicious," Oliver shut his eyes and moaned. If that was meant to be sexy, Hermione didn't notice, as she was busy watching Malfoy for any signs of impending violence. "Thank you, Granger."  
"Hermione, please," she insisted.

"Alright, _Hermione_," he enunciated her name slowly, and pointed at Malfoy, "Does he always eat like this?"  
"Like what? Like the animal that he is, or like that on top of my table?" Hermione grinned down at her plate and stuffed a small piece of pancake into her mouth, knowing that right at that moment Malfoy was envisioning killing her with his mind.

"Both, actually," he laughed, watching Hermione grin at her plate.  
"Yes, he does. I told you he was special like that," she nodded.  
"Indeed," Oliver smiled at Malfoy, who paid him no mind, "A special cat for a special lady."

Hermione smiled at that, before Malfoy threw him a dirty look and jumped off the table.

"Mal-Buttons, where are you going?" Hermione called, but Malfoy had already disappeared.

"Grouchy, isn't he?" Oliver said.

_As is his normal human self._

Hermione made a humming sound of agreement before grabbing Malfoy's and Oliver's empty plates, stacking them up together.

"Here, let me help," Oliver stood.  
"And a gentleman, how very rare," Hermione laughed, standing before the kitchen sink as she waited for Oliver to place the plates in the sink.

"Well, I try," he winked at her.  
"Many should," she remarked, as she began to turn the tap on.

They washed the plates, talking about Quidditch (mostly Oliver talking), and then Hermione's job, Harry and Ron and finally about dating.

"So, are you seeing anybody at the moment, Hermione?" Oliver asked straightforwardly.  
"No, not at all," Hermione answered, "I haven't really given that area of my life much attention lately, too busy with other things."

_Busy with being boring._

"I see," Oliver smiled, "Nor have I. It's quite difficult to find someone."  
"You can't be serious," Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head, "You're very successful and good-looking, what could be so difficult?"  
"No, I'm really not that good-looking," he muttered, wiping the plate thoroughly.

Hermione gaped at him.

"You're joking, right?" Hermione said, "You must be. Because did I just hear Oliver Wood, _the _Oliver Wood say that he wasn't _that _good-looking? Whoever has been telling you that you're not must be told that they mustn't tell lies."  
"What do you mean?" Oliver grinned at her.  
"You were easily the best-looking guy in Hogwarts, if whatever I've heard girls say about you were anything to go by."

"And what exactly did they say?" His eyes narrowed curiously.  
"I can't tell you that," Hermione shrugged.  
"Why not? I need it for my self-esteem," Oliver said good-naturedly, "Can't you tell how low of a self-esteem I currently have?"

"If I told you exactly what they said, your head wouldn't be able to fit through the door," Hermione retorted.

Oliver threw his head back and laughed charmingly again.

"Speaking of Hogwarts," he said suddenly, "Who did you find attractive then? I mean who did you fancy?"

_Draco Malfoy._

Whoa, whoa, whoa! That thought came so fast that she didn't even have time to process it.

"Ah, I can see it in your eyes," Oliver said, staring into her eyes and pointed lightly at them, "You're currently thinking of someone you used to fancy, aren't you?"

"Not really," Hermione argued.

_I didn't fancy Malfoy or anything … I mean, he was always so irritating and annoying and always picking fights – but I just admired his eyes, and his nose and his lips and everythingabouthimreally, that doesn't classify as fancying someone right, it's totally normal to –_

"Uh huh, who is it?"  
Hermione cast a glance around the kitchen to make sure devil-cat wasn't around to overhear.

"I wouldn't classify it as fancy, but I used to think Draco Malfoy … umm, he, umm -"

_Was fucking sexy._

_Was mighty delectable._

"He, umm," Hermione continued.

_Was so, so fine._

"Umm …"

_Was well fit_.

"He was nice-looking," Hermione finished.  
"Draco Malfoy? _The _Draco Malfoy? Snobby, arrogant, spoiled brat Draco Malfoy?" Oliver gaped, looking at Hermione as if she was suddenly his grandmother.  
"The one and only," she grinned and nodded.  
"Ah, okay," Oliver nodded, a look of wonderment on his face.

Thankfully he didn't start lecturing Hermione about _how much_ of a Death Eater Malfoy was, or something like that, otherwise she would have to stop herself from smacking him in the face with a clean plate.

"What about you?" Hermione asked.  
"Well, plenty, really," Oliver admitted, grinning bashfully, "I have always thought that every girl's attractive in their very own way, you know."  
"Oh, how very sweet of you then," Hermione said, impressed.

"But," he continued, "I've always thought there was this one girl who was really, really cute. She always stood out in my eyes. I never really got the chance to say even a word or two to her, being so busy trying to … I don't know exactly what I was trying to do," he laughed, "But yeah, sometimes I remember her, in the oddest of times."

"Aw, that's exceptionally romantic, Oliver," Hermione swooned inwardly, "Who was it?"  
"Can't tell you that," he grinned mischievously.  
"Oh, come on, let's go one for one. I told you who I found nice-looking, and now you tell me," she insisted.  
"I didn't _just _think she was nice-looking, I thought she was special."  
"Yes, yes, and all that," Hermione pushed, "Who is it, then?"

"It was _you_, actually," Oliver said, not meeting her eyes, as he wiped a plate and placed it back in its rightful place.

Hermione almost dropped the last plate but caught herself last-minute. She stood there, gaping at Oliver, until he looked at her, offered a small smile and grabbed the plate from her before wiping it.

"I, umm, I don't know what to say," she said, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.  
"Nothing, really, I just felt like telling you," he grinned toothily.  
"Oh, alright then," she nodded, feeling really, _really _confused at the moment.

And very, very flattered. Hmm.

"Listen," he turned to her completely, forcing Hermione to do the same, "I … I don't want things to get weird after what I just said …"  
"No! Not at all, don't worry," Hermione said quickly, "I'm very flattered, to be honest."  
"That's good, you should be," he said, and there was that smile again, "But I just … you know, seeing you after many years, harbouring the same thought I did when we in Hogwarts made me want to do something about it this time. At least try to."

Hermione was floored.

"You did not know I was staying here and that I had no neighbours by any chance, did you?" she raised an eyebrow at him.  
"Merlin, no!" he laughed, "Of course not! So that's why when you opened that door and I saw that it was you and … well it was like I was given a second chance."

_Just like how it felt when Harry and Ron started becoming friends with Malfoy._

Hermione shook the memory off and concentrated on Oliver.

"So, Hermione," Oliver began.  
"Yes?"

_Oh, shit._

"I was just wondering … maybe you'd like to go out for dinner with me sometime?" Oliver asked slowly.  
"Oh, I, umm," Hermione muttered, somehow catching something white fly at the corner of her right eye but that's probably just her imagination … "I …"

What the hell was wrong with her?  
There was Oliver Wood, acting so sweet and funny and lovely and handsome and … and … what was the problem again?

_Because it's not 'him', that's why._

Hermione paused.

_Maybe you should say yes – it's just dinner with Oliver, after all. Plus it's not like Malfoy's going to like you anyway._

Inwardly wincing, Hermione caught Oliver's eyes and opened her mouth. _Such confidence you have in yourself, Hermione._

"You know what, I think I – _what the fuck are you doing up there?!_" Hermione suddenly shrieked, looking past Oliver's shoulder.

Oliver turned behind him and they were both staring at the same thing.

Malfoy was on top of the fridge, poised for attack – that was what Hermione noticed earlier, she saw something white flying but it wasn't exactly flying, it was Malfoy jumping to the top of the fridge. And then she noticed him just in time when he was positioning himself to jump on the back of Oliver and possibly claw his head off.

Malfoy froze at being caught and proceeded to act casual, sitting idly with his tail dangling off the fridge, swishing here and there.

"How did he get up there?" Oliver wondered.

Hermione glared at him, beckoning him to get down, and he ignored her as usual.

"Merlin knows," she mumbled under her breath and Oliver made a noncommittal sound.

"Anyway, Hermione, I think I've overstayed my welcome here," he joked, "Seems like your cat was just one second for murdering me, so I think I should go."  
"No, really, you can stay," she said politely.  
"Thank you, but I think I should let you two continue your bonding thing," he grinned, "So I'll see you around, yeah?"  
"Definitely," she nodded, and she walked him to the front door. She opened it for him and he stepped out.

"But, think about what I said, will you?" he grabbed her hand and planted a light kiss on it, before winking, "I await your answer."  
"Okay," Hermione said dumbly.

And then he left.

She shut the door, pushed her bushy hair out of the way and rubbed her face thoughtfully.  
_I'll answer later._

Stomping to the kitchen, she shouted, "That's _two _attempted murders today, Malfoy!" and began to look around in her fridge for something to cook that night, a great white cat still sitting atop, licking its paw.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.

"Well, Malfoy," Hermione said, reopening the package delivered by Ron and Harry earlier in the afternoon. "Let's do this."

She was sitting at the dining table, Malfoy in his usual spot opposite her on the table.

He was quiet, but Hermione suspected that it was just because he was full. For a cat, he certainly had the best appetite in the world.

Hermione filled up the needle syringe with the turquoise liquid and looked at Malfoy.

"Come here," she said gently. He got up and tiptoed towards her, sitting down directly in front of her as she made sure everything was in order.

"Well, let's just hope it works," Hermione said casually.

She caught the dirty look Malfoy sent her and she rushed to correct herself.

"I mean, not to say it wouldn't work but … hopefully it does. I didn't mean it in a _bad _way, Malfoy," she rolled her eyes, "Come on."

She gently grabbed a bit of loose skin on Malfoy's neck and in one quick, confident movement, she inserted the needle into the fold of loose skin she held between her fingers.

After pulling out the needle and putting it back into the package to dispose of properly, she stroked Malfoy's head and spine.

_You know, if this works, this would be the last time I'll ever see you sitting on my table. And it's a sight I think I would miss._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.

_Was Malfoy eavesdropping on her conversation with Oliver the entire time? If so, he must've heard me say that I fancied – or rather, think he was nice-looking back in Hogwarts. Damn._

That was the sound of Hermione's brain working so early in the morning, up before her eyes opened.

_MALFOY._

She quickly discovered that there was no warmth at the back of her neck. Her eyes shot opened and she turned to where Malfoy normally slept.

There she found Malfoy.

Cat-Malfoy.

Not human Malfoy at all. He was still the same big, white cat. And he was currently regarding her with wide eyes.

"It didn't work?" she said in a small voice, "I'm sorry, Malfoy."

The cat took a deep breath and looked away for a few moments before jumping off the bed, and out of the bedroom, tail hung low. Not quite the normal enthusiastic straightness Malfoy always had in his tail.

Hermione's heart went out to him and she quickly got up to scribble a note to both Harry and Ron.

_Dear Harry and Ron,  
Potion did not work. Still a cat. Ask Potioners to begin another research? Thanks.  
Hermione._

And then she went out to find Malfoy in the balcony, staring at the streets below, his tail doing its customary swaying about.

"Hey, Malfoy," she called out, "What do you think of hot dogs?"

Malfoy's tail stopped moving and his head turned towards her, grey eyes eyeing her with uncontained curiosity.

"Oh, right, you don't know what hot dogs are," Hermione grinned, "Looks like you'll have to find out."

Hermione disappeared with a pop, and then appeared a moment later with two hot dogs in her hand. She sent him a sly look and walked towards the kitchen, placing the hot dogs on the table.

And then she waited.

Moments later, Malfoy jumped onto the table with a loud thud and began nosing at the hot dog in interest.

"You'll like it," Hermione said as she took a big bite of her own hot dog.

Malfoy took a small bite of the food … and didn't stop until it was finished.

Hermione grinned.

**TBC!  
Read and review! Heehee.**


	4. Chapter 4

A vindictive, cunning voice judged Hermione while she was in the shower a couple of days later.

_You're neither sorry nor disappointed that Malfoy didn't turn back into his normal self._

Hermione twisted the shower faucet until water stopped running down her person.

_That's not true! It's a shame that the potion didn't work_, she hissed back inwardly. But she couldn't lie to herself really – while she was _truly_ sorry that the potion was null and void, she couldn't help but elated at the fact that that meant that while the Potioners worked on another cure, she would have more time with Malfoy.

Her inner Gryffindor refused to have this though, and so for the past few days Hermione kept sending letters to both Harry and Ron _and _the Potioners, pestering them to come up with another cure as soon as possible. The Potioners replied to her with hasty scribbles of apologies at the earlier failure and that Hermione should be expecting another cure in a few days.

_Well I should be_, Hermione thought. Malfoy had been on edge lately since the potion-that-did-not-work incident, more so than usual, that she wondered if Malfoy's tail could get any straighter and more rod-like and just break at how much tension it was giving out.

Walking to the vanity and wiping her entire body, she drew a cartoon cat on the fogged-up mirror before smiling at it and slipping into her lacy red knickers. She wrapped her towel around her, realizing that she had left her make-up bag outside and went to go get it. She bodily pushed the door behind her as she got back to the vanity, and tore her towel off her and began wiping her hair and face properly with it, clad only in her knickers.

She was just about drying her chest area when the bathroom door began opening slowly, emitting a creaking sound. She froze, watching the door as it became wider and wider, inch by inch.

_Was it a ghost_?

No.  
A white furry body promenaded into the bathroom, seemingly intent on going somewhere, before noticing a pair of legs.

Its white head moved upwards and grey eyes locked with Hermione's brown eyes and they both stared for a few moments.

And then, albeit extremely late, realization set in.

"_OH MY GOD, MALFOY!" _Hermione screeched, the decibel of her voice increasing by tenfold as she scrambled to cover her topless half and – whole body really – with the towel as quickly (and as _clumsily_ as her shocked-self could muster) as possible.

In her mortification and after turning into the shade of a telephone box, hair all over her face, she turned an accusing glare at Malfoy who was still in the same spot.

"_Malfoy!_"she said, scandalized. She was about to yell and say something like "_Don't you ever knock?"_ or "_Why didn't you say something?"_ or "_Next time, make your presence known so I have time to react!"_ but she found that his current state, unable to speak and make obvious noises, would trump all her accusations.

Instead of sending her an apologetic look (hah, as if), or leaving, Malfoy just waltzed towards the litter box and climbed on top of it. Hermione watched him, but after a few seconds of watching Malfoy stare at his litter box, he turned his head towards her.

His eyes were narrowed and full of vexation, clearly communicating a "Do you mind?"

Hermione sputtered, and huffed, and puffed before storming out of the bathroom.

_Git, git, git, git, git, git! _She paced back and forth at the space in front of her bed, and bit her nails.

"I can't _believe_ he actually walked in on me like that, _practically naked_!" she muttered under her breath. "I hope he didn't see anything."

_Oh well, even if he did, at least thank Merlin for the fact that I was wearing one of my better knickers._

Suddenly satisfied and feeling not-so-appalled anymore, she relaxed.

And then she frowned.

_Wait, why does that matter?_

She was about to go through a full-blown analysis of _why _her current knickers were better than anything Malfoy could have possibly walked in on and _why _she cared about what Malfoy thought about her knickers … but she got distracted by the bathroom door creaking open a little bit and out stepped Malfoy, walking almost-sluggishly towards the bedroom exit. Before he disappeared though, he sent Hermione a look.

And Hermione thought that it reminded her of human Malfoy's usual smirk.

_Bastard._

Hermione went to work turning beet red every five minutes at the recollection.

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.**

It was a Thursday night that had Hermione feeling like she really ought to get a cat after Malfoy turns back into his human form. She imagined that as soon as Malfoy wants out of her life as soon as he gets cured, she would be back to her quiet, dainty flat with no cat and that would be quite depressing.

They had lasagne for dinner, and Malfoy had managed to get cheese and sauce all over his snout and still left traces of them on his snow-white fur no matter how many times he tried to lick it off.

It made quite a disturbing picture, Hermione thought; it was as if Malfoy was feasting on blood. She lifted Malfoy and brought him to the bathroom where she filled the bathtub with a sufficient amount of warm water to wash Malfoy's snout with – and decided to just give him a bath while she was at it.

The sight of a nasty-looking, extremely grumpy Malfoy soaked with water didn't stop Hermione from laughing out loud at the appeal of it all.

"Don't look at me like that, Malfoy," Hermione teased, "Didn't your Pureblood etiquette lessons teach you to not make such a mess during dinner?"

She had also opted for the blow-dryer instead of a normal Drying charm to use on Malfoy, just for the heck of it. The outcome was a much puffier and shinier Malfoy, but Malfoy seemed content to have Hermione to card her fingers through his fur while having warm air directed at him.

Dismissing him before his usual telly time, she decided to skip her own and sat cross-legged on her bed to continue a small project that she had been doing. She was arranging pictures of her, Harry and Ron and everybody else that mattered in her life into a huge, bulky photo album.

She had enchanted a Muggle camera to be able to snap pictures during Hogwarts and had collected a truckload of them, and it was a shame to just leave them lying about, forgotten.

Deciding on which photo made her hair look less bushy, she saw Malfoy come in from the corner of her eye.

She turned to him, "What's the matter? Did the telly go off?"

Instead of stopping, Malfoy just made his way towards the bed while Hermione listened carefully for any sounds coming from the living room. The telly was on, judging from the sounds of explosions and conversations coming from the general direction of it, but Malfoy clearly wasn't interested in what they were showing.

"Not your cup of tea, huh?" Hermione said to him, as he watched from the floor, tail swishing about.

He jumped and landed on the bed, nosing at the stacks of glossy, unmoving pictures and the big photo album that rested on Hermione's lap.

"Muggle pictures," Hermione informed him, "They don't move like the magical ones but I think they're as lovely. Come here, I'll show you some of my pictures."

Malfoy moved after a while and positioned himself next to Hermione, his front paws on her lap as his head shot out to look at the album curiously.

She flipped the album to the very first page, and described the picture of her choice.

"Well, that's me as a baby," she said, sighing, "I know, I know. Not really a photogenic one. And then that's me when I got my first Hogwarts letter – but you're right though, I did have beaver-like teeth, ugh. Thank Merlin I got that fixed."

Malfoy just peered at every single photo, not moving from his position.

"And that's the three of us," Hermione pointed at the picture of The Golden Trio, all holding hands and grinning happily, "On Graduation Day."

She moved to the other stacks of pictures and began to leaf through them, until she landed on a picture of Ron and herself exchanging a kiss.

"Ugh, God," she laughed, and showed it to Malfoy, "That was just after Graduation, when we were both still dating. Better not put that in there." Malfoy looked almost positively sick as he looked at the photo but thankfully Hermione tossed it onto another stack.

"Oh, hey, you're in this picture," Hermione grinned, showing Malfoy an individual picture of her smiling brightly in Hogwarts' courtyard, and pointed at Malfoy who was standing with his friends not far behind, sneering at her, "You were looking at me like you normally did, sneer on as usual."

"Let's put that in," she decided, and started to put glue at the back of the picture and positioning it in the album before pressing on it with her palm.

Malfoy continued to watch her as she put individual pictures of Harry and of Ron inside her album, both quiet with the occasional explanation and sound of protest from Hermione at bad pictures.

"Oh my, Ron was completely sloshed during this," Hermione laughed as she studied a picture of The Golden Trio again, Harry with his eyes shut and Ron almost falling over and with a sober Hermione in the middle. "You know, we should take a picture one day, all four of us. Since you're practically part of the group now -"

A loud tap on her window broke into the conversation.

It was a large, barn owl, a Ministry's owl and it continued to tap until Hermione got off the bed.

"Hold on, hold on," she said irritably, "Ministry owls have no patience."

Hermione opened her window and in flew the giant bird, a small package attached to its leg. She freed the owl from the package and ripped off the letter stuck to it.

"Owl treats are there," she said to the owl, absently pointing towards the jar of owl treats.

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_Enclosed in this package is the cure for Mister Malfoy. Apologies for the delay. Procedures are as before._

_Yours sincerely,  
Matthias Hopkins  
Ministry Official No. 21839  
Ministry of Magic,  
Department of Potions Research_

Hermione almost turned to Malfoy with a pang of regret before felt the owl's great wings brush against her head.

She looked at it as it finished eating a lot of owl treats than most owls do, as it turned a watchful eye on Malfoy. Hermione, too, looked at Malfoy and found that he was watching the owl mischievously, his tail making a giant 'S' in the air.

"No, Malfoy, you can't attack it, or kill it," Hermione scolded, "It's a Ministry owl. You'll get us all into trouble."

Luckily, before Malfoy could utilize his claws and end the owl's life, the owl decided to fly out of the window and disappear into the night.

"Well, Malfoy," Hermione said, smiling, "Looks like you got another cure."

This time, it was a burgundy-coloured liquid.

Hermione injected it into the folds of loose skin around Malfoy's neck as she did before and they both went to bed.

_Fingers crossed._

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.**

Something was amiss.

Hermione's eyes opened blearily and looked at the time. It was an hour before she would have to wake up for work, and she had no idea why she woke up that early.

She sensed that Malfoy was not sleeping behind her as he usually did. Instead she was alone, in a cold bed.

She sat in bed and looked around.

"Malfoy?" she called, with a pang of sadness in her chest. Maybe Malfoy had turned back into his human self sometime during the night and decided to bolt before he was forced to deal with the awkwardness.

Hermione sighed and got out of bed. _Oh, well_.

She stretched leisurely, trying to just get on with it and not think about how sad she felt all of a sudden … and then she saw it.

Next to her bed.

Some sort of gloopy, sticky, translucent grey pool of liquid on the floor.

"What _is _that?" she stared at it before walking towards it, and gasped as she saw it trailing out of her bedroom.

Heart hammering wildly all of a sudden, she began to follow the trail.

"Malfoy?" she called out, voice wavering out of sheer worry. "Malfoy!"

She waited for the great white cat to come prancing towards her, but he didn't. She took a deep breath and followed the trail of grey liquid, and then her heart literally sank into her stomach as she saw that another colour joined the trail, a maroon, deep red kind of – _blood_.

"Malfoy," she called out, feeling like she wanted to cry all of a sudden as she followed the trail still.

She stopped in her tracks.

The trail had stopped somewhere near one of her bookshelves and she looked around in panic. She quickly scanned the entire area, looking at the sofa, in the other bathroom, in the kitchen – no sign of Malfoy –

And then she caught sight of a familiar white body, lying limply on the floor just right next to the balcony.

"_Malfoy!" _she cried out before running towards him, sinking onto her knees.

Malfoy's eyes were shut, and he was cold – with dried blood around his snout. He was breathing, but very shallowly and he was shivering.

"Oh my God, what happened?" she sobbed, heart beating uncontrollably as she tears began to flow freely down her cheeks.

Malfoy was trembling almost deliriously then, and something snapped in Hermione. She immediately got onto her feet and grabbed a box and filled it with comfortable cloth. Then, she cast a Lightening Charm on Malfoy before carefully levitating him into the box – and with not a moment to spare, she Apparated.

In St. Mungo's, after much hysterics and calls for action from Hermione, the Healers immediately took charge of Malfoy and Hermione had quickly explained about the cure she had given to him last night.

The Potioners were summoned immediately, and the three of them disappeared into a room along with the box that held Malfoy, along with a Healer.

Alone and confused and scared to death, Hermione sent a Patronus to Harry and Ron, notifying them of what had happened. She had also sent another Patronus to her boss at the Ministry.

They immediately came by and waited patiently with Hermione outside of the door that held a sick and possibly dying Malfoy.

After possibly two hours of waiting, of pacing and of nearly bursting out into tears, the door opened.

"_Well?_" Hermione rushed towards the Healer, who came out of the ward with the three Potioners.

Harry and Ron stood behind her, looking as pale and worried as Hermione did.

"Well, nothing to be worried about," the Healer, a lady, said, "We almost lost him for a moment back there."

Hermione bit back a sob as she bit her lip, Harry and Ron exclaiming with a _"WHAT?!"_ behind her.

"But he is stable now," she continued, "His breathing and temperature are back to normal, and he is in deep sleep as of now."

"What happened actually?" Harry interrupted.  
"It was the Potion. It was supposed to be the perfect mix for the cure but the spell that hit Mister Malfoy in the beginning had been infused with Dark Magic, as we are all aware. However, as soon as the Potion began to flow in his system, it had somehow begun to battle with the Dark Magic that is _also_ in his system. In the midst of that, his body system began to become very unstable.

Hence the grey discharge along with blood. Unfortunately though, the Potion did not work, again and the Dark Magic currently imbued in his system overrode any changes the body might have tried to make. In fact, it made it worse, just before you came in here."

Hermione was suddenly angry.

_How incompetent can these people get! That cure almost killed Malfoy, for fuck's sake, how can they just stand there calmly –_

Harry's hand tightened around her shoulder and he shook his head at her, as if knowing what she was thinking and what she was about to do. She nodded at him and took a few calming breaths before addressing the Healer and Potioners again.

"So what now?" she asked.

"Now, we continue researching," one of the Potioners said, "It is the only thing we can do now. We will also try to get the other Aurors to dig out information from Umbridge, regarding the elements that she used to create the spell in the first place. We believe that she is our only hope in curing Mister Malfoy at this point. We have dealt with a lot of Transfiguration spells gone wrong, as well as ones that are infused with Dark Magic, but never before had the cures malfunctioned like this before."

"I see," Hermione answered stiffly.

"We have to keep Mister Malfoy here for a week," the Healer said to Hermione, "For observation purposes, just in case. We have extracted all traces of the Potion from his body, but we can never be too sure. We shall keep him in here for the moment."

Hermione's heart broke at that, but she nodded mutely.

"Can I see him?" Hermione said in a small voice.  
"Of course," the Healer nodded and led her to the door, before opening it for Hermione.

Hermione almost forgot to say thanks as her eyes landed on the still-limp body, lying in the middle of something that looked like a Muggle incubator.

She walked towards him and watched as his body rose and fell with each breath and Hermione felt at least a little bit thankful that he was now breathing normally.

"I'm so sorry, Malfoy," she whispered to the sleeping cat, "I am _so, so_ sorry."

Hermione allowed herself to shed tears of worry and tears of relief before calming herself down enough, just in time for Harry and Ron to burst in through the doors, watching cat-Malfoy sorrowfully.

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.**

Hermione had been watching the ceiling for quite some time now.

In the midst of darkness and silence, the only thing she could hear was her own sighs and the occasional muted sounds of cars passing by on the streets down below.

All of a sudden, her heart clenched painfully.

She shut her eyes and turned to her side, forcing herself to get some sleep.

_I miss him._

**TBC!  
Read and review, please! Heehee.**


	5. Chapter 5

**To La Belladonna, The Chaminator and ThoseLionEyes.**

It had been three days. Three days since Hermione literally felt her heart sink into her stomach and consecutively try to escape through her throat at the sight of a dying Malfoy.

Now she wasn't entirely sure whether her heart was still caged in her chest or had escaped and abandoned her to be by Malfoy's side at the hospital.

Worried sick and missing her companion, Hermione visited Malf- _Draco_ (somehow since the heart-rending incident, Malfoy had transitioned to Draco without Hermione's permission) every day. His condition remained unchanging – stable, but the same. He still remained in deep sleep – the Potioners and the Healer explained to Hermione that his magic was cocooning him from any external dangers or attack, all the while working on healing him from the inside.

In other words, Draco was currently untouchable while he healed himself. The Potioners and Healers were unable to do anything, as Draco's magic only permitted them to take blood samples via the Muggle way. Until Draco wakes up himself, it was just research, research and research. Harry and Ron had been trying to get Umbridge to give them the cure as well, but she had been stubborn, giggling every now and then at their futile attempts to heal '_young Mr Malfoy_'. Clearly the Ministry had been far too easy on her after the War, and now after all that has happened, Hermione hoped that she would be sent to Azkaban for the rest of her life.

Still, Hermione dropped by religiously during her lunch breaks, just to watch Draco resting inside the makeshift incubator and then proceed to have a discourse with the Potioners and Healers.

All things considered, Hermione wasn't sure whether she was fighting for him to get back to normal, or for him to get back to _her_. After much deliberation, Hermione decided that it really didn't matter, just as long as death wasn't an option.

At the present moment, Hermione was eating Chinese takeaway, staring blankly at the empty space right across where she was seated at the table. She glanced forlornly at the expanse of her flat, and almost immediately shook her head.

_Oh come off it girl, he'll be fine!_ She told herself, _He's Malfoy._

And that, somehow, put a smile on her face.

Not for long however, because her expression immediately went from hopeful to befuddlement at a sudden knocking from her door. Then she had realized that her wards had started alerting her a little of a presence outside, but she had been too absorbed in wishing Draco well that she had completely ignored the feeling.

"Just a minute!" she called out and she threw away the empty cartons of Chinese food into the trash and washed her hands.

_It's probably Oliver._

"Oliver," she smiled at the handsome face that greeted her on the other side of the door.  
"Hermione," he grinned boyishly and waved a little, "How are you?"  
"I'm great," _Not really_, "Thank you. How are you?"  
"Fantastic," he said, his accent making that word sound very musical and very charming, "You look down, though. Everything okay?"  
"Oh, it's just Buttons – he's not well. He's currently at St- the vet," she quickly answered, hoping that Oliver didn't catch that little slip-of-the-tongue, lest he questioned her as to why a cat is in the hospital, and not the vet.

"Aw, shame, I'm sorry," he said sadly, "What happened?"  
"Food poisoning," she smiled a little, "He'll be fine though, he's recovering as we speak. Would you like to come in?"

"Oh, actually, I came over to ask you if you were available for drinks. Tonight?" he asked, his eyebrows going up, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks.

Hermione analysed the situation, fast.  
There were plenty of reasons why she shouldn't go out with Oliver. First, it was a weekday, and she had work the next day. Second, she really had forgotten to get back to him about the whole 'I'm interested in you, so what say you?' deal with him. Thirdly … thirdly … there was nothing, really.

The only reason that motivated her to go was that the longer she stayed at home alone, the more she missed Draco and the more her worry grew.

"Hang on, let me get my coat."

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.**

"Always like a lady who loves her Bailey's Irish Cream," Oliver grinned, gesturing at the drink Hermione was currently nursing.

She smiled at him, embarrassed, "Well, it's mild and … very …"

"Very feminine," he laughed, "It's all right, there's nothing wrong there. Lots of girls probably wouldn't admit to liking such a mild concoction of alcohol, since it's very creamy and all."

Hermione grimaced a little at that, knowing how many of her Muggle friends and how Ginny, most especially, loved their beer and other hard liquors, after Harry had introduced her to the wonders of Muggle alcohol.

He had even introduced them to Draco, who had taken a supreme liking towards gin.

Hermione recalled the many times Draco had come over for dinner or some gathering at Harry's and found that he would almost always go for the gin bottle first.

"So how do you know this Muggle pub, anyway?" Hermione asked Oliver curiously.  
"Well," he cleared his throat, "It was by chance, actually. My teammates and I used to go out drinking at Wizarding pubs but found that the sexual harassments were too much to bear," he laughed at Hermione's surprised expression, "We couldn't have proper fun, with proper drinks. So we resorted to this. And we love it. I love it."

"I see," she nodded.

"So, I was wondering," Oliver watched her intently, "Have you come to a decision regarding the conversation we had the other day?"

Hermione knew straightaway what he was talking about. He wanted an answer.

Would a '_sorry, I was too busy with my cat'_ sound too crazy? Not to mention the double-barrelled meaning it entailed.

"To be honest, Oliver …"

_I'm a lesbian._

"To be honest …"

_I think I'm crazy and I see dead people all the time._

"I …"

_I think I fancy Draco Malfoy._

"I …"

_I want to maybe go out on a date with Draco Malfoy._

"I have someone else in mind," she said bluntly, catching the slight widening of Oliver's eyes.  
"Do you?" he smiled a little.  
"Yes, and … and it hasn't happened, yet … I'm still waiting for something," she continued, "I don't know how long it's going to take, but I think I'm willing to wait. And I think it's incredibly unfair to you if I were to just string you along when I have someone else in mind."

_Ouch_.

"Ah," he sighed, still smiling that sad smile. "So no chance there?"

She shook her head.  
"I'm afraid not," she smiled, "I think I have always liked him somewhere, deep inside. Even in school. And I am probably only realizing it now, hopefully not too late."

"It's never too late, Granger," he chuckled, "Better late than never, eh? Same goes to me, at least I asked you, didn't I? Otherwise I don't know how I would have gone on living thinking about the chance that I missed, _again_."

"I'm sorry, Oliver," she grabbed his hand and squeezed lightly, "You are a catch, don't worry. You were every girl's fantasy back in Hogwarts."

He laughed.

"So yeah …" she continued, but stopped abruptly, realizing how awkward everything was at that moment. She slowly took her hand back and glanced around.

"So …" Oliver said quietly, "Draco Malfoy, huh?"

Her eyes met his.

"Yeah," she sighed.  
"All the best with that, Granger," he grinned, "Come on, buy me another round – it's the least you could do for my poor, broken heart."

"That I could do," she laughed and got up to get more drinks for them.

They went home that night, equally tipsy and equally stumbling into their own flats.

"Goodnight, Her-mee-oh-ninny," Oliver slurred from his door. "Till next time."  
"Goodnight, Oliver," she replied, astounded at the fact that she was still very articulate.

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.**

Advent had started.

It was during one of her lunch breaks that Hermione decided to stop by the pet shops that she noticed a few days ago on her way to St. Mungo's.

What she saw on the display this time, however, was not the usual black cat or a fluffy brown dog, but it was a white Norwegian Forest Cat – the replica of cat-Malfoy. It was looking as grumpy as Draco usually did, and that made Hermione wonder if this particular cat shared the same type of personality Malfoy did.

_Probably not, _Hermione smiled to herself. _One in a million, that one._

She brought her hand to rest against the glass window, as if to touch the white cat. It caught its attention, looked at Hermione and yawned before regarding her with big grey eyes.

_Funny, this one has Draco's eyes too._

Mentally reminding herself where to stop by after Draco got better, she scanned the area for the price for that cat.

"What, replacing me so soon, Granger?"

Hermione froze.

It was an all-too-familiar voice – a voice she hadn't heard in a long time since the shitstorm that was Umbridge's curse, and a voice that she was so used to hearing arguing good-naturedly with Ron and Harry, a voice that she was hoping to hear again –

She turned and caught the grey eyes of Draco Malfoy.

In the flesh. Bona fide.

All solid and … and human, with his usual pale skin and his platinum blond hair that had a light dusting of snow on it. He was also tall. So very tall. And so very handsome.

"Draco!" She gasped, dropping her jaw to the floor and never intending to pick it up ever again.

"Granger," he nodded, giving her such a beautiful smile that Hermione had to blink multiple times to make sure he was really, really there.

As if in a drunken haze, she stepped towards where Draco was standing, hand outstretched. Draco did nothing, he merely watched her with his hands in his pockets.

"You – you," she stuttered, and began to touch the leather of his black coat. As she dragged her hand down the coat, she unconsciously touched some part of his turtleneck sweater, and realized that from the heat that he was currently radiating, he was very real. And so very here.

"You, I – what?" she knitted her eyebrows and looked up at Draco's amused face.

"Why, I believe this is a moment I should cherish for the rest of my life, I have finally reduced the ever-articulate Hermione Granger into a stuttering mess," he commented, a light smile gracing his features, "How very unbecoming of you, Granger."

"No, I don't understand," she shook her head and closed her eyes for a few seconds before opening them again, "You were – how did they heal you so fast? I thought you weren't to wake up until a couple more days? And how did they manage to do it without harming you in the process, did Umbridge give them the cure?" A billion questions were coursing throughout her brain, "And how did you -"

"Oh, I couldn't give a _fuck_ about that, Granger," Draco said briskly, fondly. He chuckled at the growing confusion on Hermione's face – the sound so low, so dark and so very sexy – before whisking her into his arms, gently positioning one hand on her face to cup her jaw, tilting it ever so slightly – and then he kissed her deeply.

Hermione processed something going off somewhere distant – something like a fire alarm or the alarm that goes off when someone steals something from a Muggle store – but then as soon as the thought formed in her brain, it went away just like that and instead she focused on the feel of Malfoy's lips on hers – _how is that you realize that this is something you have been missing your whole life but never once had you experienced it? – _and she focused on the way Malfoy smelled like … like … she thought that, bizarrely, he smelled like Christmas.

Not wishing to smile so hard and make kissing a technical challenge, she threw herself into the kiss and vaguely grumbling about the maddening sound of the alarm – _will somebody bloody well shut that thing off _–

And then suddenly, everything crumbled like a house of cards.

And her eyes opened to the familiar sight of her bedroom, her alarm clock beeping from her left. _So that explains the beeping sound in the dream._

Annoyed, she flicked her wand towards it and it stopped. She threw herself back into her pillow and brushed her face, pensively aware of the fact that her lips still tingled from that dream-kiss.

With no familiar warmth at the back of her neck and a grumpy white cat communicating with her through his eyes to _stop making the bed jiggle so much_, she set about getting ready for work.

_If dream-Malfoy's kiss that was earth-shattering, who's to say that real-Malfoy's won't have the same effect, if not better? _Her mind supplied traitorously.

_Well he has to get better for us to find out then, hmmm? _

**TBC!  
Read and review, please!**

Also, if you haven't figured it out yet, I intend to make this story a Christmas fic (it's probably 3 chapters away from the end). Because I love Christmas. I know it is only September, but I have already started listening to Christmas music! So it's high time you do the same hehe.


	6. Chapter 6

"Couldn't you have tried Veritaserum?" Hermione asked Harry and Ron when they met after work on Friday.

"On Umbridge? Yes, repeatedly. But get this," Harry said, a grave expression on her face, "The old bag is actually resistant to it."

"What? How?" Hermione frowned as they browsed around the stores in Muggle London – which were now decorated with tinsels, holly and Christmas ornaments.  
"Dunno," Ron shrugged, fiddling around with one of the psychotic-looking Santa Claus figures on display, "We've laced her tea, the pink ones, with Veritaserum every time we interrogate her. And it doesn't work! It doesn't _fucking_ work at all!"  
"Have you tried torturing her a little?" Hermione asked, eyes narrowing at the mental image of Umbridge giggling deliriously like she always did.

"We can't do that," Harry shook his head, "Would love to, but can't. Plus I have a feeling she might enjoy it."  
Hermione sighed heavily, for two reasons. One was that she was very upset that there was no progress on Draco's cure. Two was that she couldn't find anything for Draco in this store. She had bought Harry's and Ron's Christmas presents already, both neatly wrapped with a pretty bow on top, lying innocently underneath her bed (she hadn't put up her Christmas tree yet). But so far nothing in here reminded her of Draco, or made her want to buy it for Draco.

With wrapping an arm around Harry and the other around Ron, they both walked out of the store.

"We're going to increase the dosage of Veritaserum," Harry said finally, "Until Umbridge spills. No one's ever needed that high of a dosage so we're still waiting for new batch to be ready."  
"I see," Hermione nodded.

Just as they started looking for places to have dinner, Hermione caught sight of a music CD store on her left. She watched as a woman in her mid-twenties slipped a CD into the demo-player, grabbed the headphones and started bouncing her head and tapping her foot to the music she was currently listening to.

Hermione beamed.

"Wait here, boys," she said to them before sprinting into the store.

Harry and Ron both waited outside, talking about Quidditch again (Hermione surmised), their breathy laughs making white puffs of air appear due to the cold weather.

After almost twenty minutes, and after Ron's stomach started conversing with him about its wishes to digest some dinner _rightaboutnow_, Hermione emerged from the store looking entirely proud of herself, a black package decorated with snow-white bow at the top in her hands.

"What? Who's that for?" Ron pointed at it.  
"Not you," Hermione said succinctly.  
"So it's mine, then?" Harry asked, a hopeful expression on his face.

"No, I've already got you both presents. They're …" she stopped herself at the two too-interested-looking boys, "Somewhere. This one's for Draco."

"Oh," they both chorused.  
"Yes. So that's my Christmas shopping done," Hermione smiled, "Nothing else to worry about now."  
"_What_?" Ron squawked, "You mean you've _finished _buying presents for _everybody_?"

"Yes," she nodded, nose high in the air.  
Ron groaned – he hated Christmas shopping. Not only did it leave a huge hole in his wallet, but it took too much effort, he said.

"And I'm pretty sure Harry's halfway done," Hermione looked at Harry, "After all, Christmas this year's at your place, right?"  
Harry nodded, "Halfway. Got probably the other half left. I'll go look around tomorrow."

Ron groaned again.

"I suppose you haven't even started?" Hermione accused.  
"That's not true!" He turned red, "I have … bought a few things … here and there."  
"That's nice, Ronald," she teased, "Only a billion more people to go."

As Harry and Ron began to bicker about where to have dinner, Hermione glanced down at the black package in her hand, stroked the black wrapping paper and the white bow, all the while smiling fondly at it. She took out her wand, shrunk the package and placed it inside her bag.

Turning her attention the two still-arguing boys in front of her, she rolled her eyes and pushed herself into the middle, arms around them both.

"Let _me_ decide where to have dinner, then," she said with an air of finality, and both boys just followed.

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.**

It was the thousandth time Hermione sneezed that morning.

It was a Saturday and she decided to just decorate her entire flat. She hung Christmas socks all over, the wreath on her front door. Saving the best for last, she got the Christmas tree out of the storeroom and put it up, the Muggle way. Naturally, that would mean lots and lots of dust and broken decorations.

She mended them all but couldn't escape the dust that invaded her nostrils.

Despite the happy, calm vibe the Christmas music in the background was providing, it was the occasionally decorated with the sound of violent sneezing.

So there she was, standing on top of a chair while pulling out the tangled branches of her artificial tree. For many years, she tried to make her tree look like the ones they have in malls or the one that Hogwarts, but hers always ended up looking really messy and overdone.

In the midst of hanging a blue ornament, her wards began to shift and an almost-mute ring started to echo throughout the flat.

Hermione got down from the chair, and ran towards the door, swinging it open.

There were three familiar faces and three familiar-looking neon blue (_ugh_) uniforms. The Potioners. One of them was holding a cage.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," one of them greeted politely, "We've brought Mr Malfoy with us. We have already collected all the necessary samples and we have yet to await the missing ingredient that Umbridge has yet to tell us for the final cure. Until then, we're positive that Mr Malfoy will be much more comfortable here."

Hermione's heart lurched and her spirits soared as she watched the Potioner lowered the cage to the floor and flipped the trap door open.

And out stepped one gloriously white and regal paw, and the other followed before he stretched – half in half out.

But Hermione was having none of that. She quickly grabbed Draco and _pulled _him out of the cage, not having the patience to wait as he made his grand entrance to give him a big hug – or rather, a big squeeze. In fact, Hermione squeezed him so hard that Malfoy emitted an odd sort of sound – like a '_meep!_' or … a '_heek!_'

"I missed you, Draco!" she held him at an arm's length as she looked at him all over – pristine and clean, looking healthy and well like he did before the incident – and he was looking back at her with wide, grey eyes, as if traumatized. "I missed you a lot!"

"Well, that would be all, Miss Granger. We'll take our leave," all of them nodded, "Good bye."  
"Bye, and thank you!" Hermione said, flashing them a bright smile before all of them Disapparated.

"Aww, Draco!" she squealed again, before crushing him to her again, the '_heek!'_ sound escaping from the general direction of Draco's mouth.

"Oh, I can't tell you how happy I am to see you, to have you back," she prattled on, holding him at an arm's length again, "It was really weird not having you around – and I was so, _so_, _so_ worried, Draco, you have no idea."

She finally set him down and then released a huge sigh of relief.

"We'll have a nice dinner tonight," she announced, "But I have to finish setting up the Christmas tree first. You can go watch telly; I can switch it on for you, if you like."

However, Draco didn't start walking towards the living room area, she moved to where her half-finished Christmas tree was, and sat down next to the box of decorations.

"Oh, okay then," she shrugged and got up on her chair again with another box of decorations in her hand.

After she finished decorating the entire tree, with Draco sitting lazily nearby (and occasionally grooming), Hermione went to fetch an entire bag of presents.

Neatly stacking them up and positioning them to look like they were artfully arranged, she didn't tell Draco that the black package with the white bow was his. She smiled knowingly to herself before putting it underneath the tree.

"So that's it," Hermione let out a tired breath, hands on her hips, "I think we should light it up."

Draco woke up from his dozing state and his ears perked up as Hermione ducked behind the tree to flip the Christmas lights on.

Immediately, the Christmas tree was bedecked with chasing lights of blue, red, green and yellow.

Hermione's mouth hung open for a little bit in awe for she gave a tiny laugh, as excited as she was every time she lit up her Christmas tree.

"Well, that looks wonderful, doesn't it?" Hermione said before she sat cross-legged on the floor, watching her tree with fascination.

Draco moved to sit next to her, and Hermione's hand automatically started stroking his fur.

And there they both sat, watching the lights and enjoying both the Christmas music and the warm ambience.

Until Draco started licking his mouth purposefully in front of Hermione and tapping her lap with his paw.

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.**

They fell back into their old routine with no difficulty at all with the lazy weekends and hearty dinners and warm bed.

So when a Ministry owl came with a brown package on the 21st of December, while Hermione was reading to Draco, she almost wanted to take out a gun and shoot it.

But the way Draco's head perked up and eyes looked longingly at the package, she knew she couldn't have done that to Draco.

She literally ripped the letter off the package, snarled the direction of the owl treat at the owl (who rolled its eyes at her), and scanned through the handwritten, stiff-sounding note.

_Dear Ms Granger, _

_Enclosed in this package is the final cure for Mister Malfoy. Rest assured that this one will definitely work. It will, however, take a few days to take effect. Procedures are as before._

_Yours sincerely,  
Matthias Hopkins  
Ministry Official No. 21839  
Ministry of Magic,  
Department of Potions Research_

Hermione sighed and watched as the Ministry owl flew off, and a few seconds after, her eyes widened as another owl came whizzing in.

It was Pigwidgeon.

"Hello there, Pig," Hermione said and stroked its head before removing the letter from its leg and directing it to the owl treats. She tried her best to ignore the menacing look Draco was giving Pig from where he was perched on the table.

_Hermione,_

_We are 100% sure that this cure will work. 100%. Finally got it out of Umbridge two days ago. Couldn't resist the high dosage of Veritaserum after all. This is __the__ cure, and after this, Malfoy will be back to normal._

_Will take a few days to work though. _

_Harry & Ron_

Hermione turned to Draco who was eyeing Pig very interestedly.

"Well, Draco," she said, "This will _definitely_ work."

After dinner, Draco sat patiently on the dining table as Hermione prepared the injection. This time the potion was pink in colour – reminiscent of Umbridge's favourite colour. Hermione visibly shuddered in disgust before smiling confidently at Draco's questioning look.

"If you're wondering," she answered, "It's because this spell was partially created by Umbridge. The only thing missing from the other cures was this special ingredient of hers. That's why it's pink. It's her favourite colour, if you remember from Hogwarts. Everything was pink – and … full of cats."

Hermione suddenly linked those two together – Umbridge was a lunatic who loved cats and the colour pink. Maybe those cats that she had at home were _people_, after all. She quickly grabbed a parchment, wrote her thoughts down and sent it off to Harry and Ron, asking them to check her all her cats, just to be safe.

After the potion was injected into Draco's system, they both went to watch some telly before climbing into bed.

Draco was resting on his paws on Hermione's chest, while she stroked his ear. Draco's eyes were shut in bliss.

"I really, _really_ hope the Potion works this time, because …" she trailed off.

Draco's eyes opened to watch her.

"Because … because if it doesn't work, something bad might happen, _again_," she said, swallowing a lump in her throat.

_Never been able to handle an animal dying,_ she lied to herself.

"I don't want you to die, Draco," she said, scratching the top of his head. Her eyes were glistening slightly and she sent him a watery smile.

She took a deep breath and shut her eyes, still stroking his fur until she lulled both of them to sleep.

**TBC!  
Read and review, hehe.  
The last two chapters will be up at the same time as this one, so enjoy!**


	7. Chapter 7

It was very rare to hear or see someone grumbling on Christmas Eve.

Unless it was someone who worked in the International Magical Office of Law, and that person was Hermione Granger.

"Stupid, _idiotic_, lazy, half-wit of a boss," she said through gritted teeth as she appeared in the middle of her flat with a small 'pop'. She glanced at the time; it was already ten at night. Her boss had kept her at the office to finish some _his _paperwork that he had forgotten to do earlier so that he could go on a _cruise _with his wife. Unsurprisingly, 'some' paperwork was a lie. She probably did most of the department's paperwork.

She was hungry and knackered beyond belief.

She walked into the living room and caught sight of Draco sitting on the sofa, watching the telly with his tail swishing left and right slowly.

"Hello, Draco," she said, "Merry Christmas Eve."  
Draco turned to her and yawned.

"Yeah, me too," she sighed, "Aren't you hungry? I'm hungry. And I am going to bed after dinner, so you're free to watch telly until whenever."

Normally she would cook something nice during Christmas Eve, something that wasn't her current menu of pasta salad and fried chicken, but she really had no energy to cook up a storm, and she thought that she was already going to have a feast at Harry's the next day during their Christmas party, so having a mediocre meal was fine at that time – Draco didn't seem to mind, too.

"I'm sorry it's not something fantastic or anything," she said, blinking heavily, feeling like she was about to fall asleep into her food any second, "I'm just really, really tired. Sometimes my parents visit, like last year, and there would be good food on the table. But this year they're in … I think they're somewhere in Asia. And plus I'm really, really tired."

Draco didn't say anything – _of course he didn't say anything, he can't! Silly, silly Hermione. _

"Hmm," she laughed to herself, "Looks like I'm more tired than I originally thought."

"I don't care if you're still not your real self, Draco, I'm still taking you to Harry's party," she said solemnly, chewing her food with effort.

After they were both done, she dumped the plates into the sink and with a flick of her wand, they began cleaning, wiping and arranging themselves. She normally did it the Muggle way, but alas, she had no energy left.

"Draco, I'm going to bed," she said morosely, after checking that the telly was still on.

She jumped into the shower – took a long, warm one – brushed her teeth, changed into her pajamas and walked out of the bathroom.

To find Draco already on the bed, grooming himself.

"Tired too, huh?" she grinned before switching the lights off. She climbed into bed, not even bothering to pull the covers over herself.

And then everything was blank. She was out within a minute.

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.**

Hermione was between sleep and consciousness somewhere in the middle of the night because her feet were cold.

She was still too tired to move, too tired to even open her eyes – let alone get up and pull the covers over her person. She tightened her arms around herself and shivered a little.

Just as she was about to fall into her half-comatose state again, she felt something shift in her bed and then all of a sudden, she felt warm all over.

Humming appreciatively, she went back into dreamland.

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.**

The second time Hermione woke up was when she realized that she was warm. Not blanket warm, but another kind of warm. And it was very, _very _warm indeed.

Her eyes opened to catch a glimpse of what looked to be like six pairs of limbs – all wrapped around her.

She blinked a couple of times and tried to focus with extreme difficulty especially since the only source of light was from the streetlights outside and the one coming from the hallway.

And then she frowned in confusion.

There were four arms – not six. And then two of them were definitely hers. The other two, however, were very pale, and very masculine.

And so very warm.

Technically … that meant that someone was spooning her.

She shifted a little, and then she turned.

Her heart stopped and her brain baked, because her questioning eyes met the grey eyes of Draco Malfoy.

Not the cat-Malfoy. Real, breathing Draco Malfoy. With his human face, devoid of any fur. With the tousled blond hair, the pale face, the very big human eyes with that shade of grey, and the perfect nose and the pink lips.

Draco Malfoy was back to normal.

And he was currently sporting an unfathomable mien.

They locked eyes.

"Hello," he said, voice husky and possibly hoarse from sleep. Or was that how Draco Malfoy normally sounded like?

And then her addled brain had to go and take in the details of how _not-clothed_ real Draco Malfoy was. He was naked. Or at least, she thought he was because the blanket, blessedly and mercifully covered his lower half, detracting from a multitude of sins.

Otherwise, his top half was unclothed – totally bare.

"Hi," she answered flatly, as flat as her position was on the bed, looking at Draco Malfoy who was to her right – she didn't know what to do, or say, heart beating like mad –

Draco suddenly moved and reached out to give her a warm, warm peck on her lips … and it lingered more than any other kisses she had ever experienced. Their noses bumped a little when he pulled away, but he was still close enough for her to feel his warm breath tickling her face.

"Go back to sleep, it's only four in the morning," he said softly, stroking her curls.

After many moments of her staring into Draco's eyes and his face, and basking in his warmth and _everything_, she realized that she couldn't fight sleep again, especially since Draco keeps doing that to her hair.

She fell asleep with one last thought in her head.

_Christmas: a day of might, wonder and magic indeed._

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.**

When she woke up, there was no warmth.

There was no warm half-naked (or _naked?_) body next to hers, and she had the sneaking suspicion that Draco himself had realized that he was naked, too and then went home to get some clothes.

She walked out of her bedroom to see everything else in place (no half-dying cat-Malfoy near the balcony this time), Christmas tree was still lighted up, decorations in place and everything still looked warm and cosy that Christmas morning.

She opened her front door and stalked towards Oliver's door but found that there was a piece of paper stuck to the door.

_Off to visit parents. Merry Christmas, Granger._

_Oliver._

She smiled at that and tore the paper from the door, walking barefooted to her own flat. Not before she reached her open door, she saw a figure walking at the end of the hallway.

Her heart skipped almost violently at the recognition, for it was Draco Malfoy. He had on a huge black winter coat with the collar upturned, a white scarf wound haphazardly around his neck. Snow was everywhere – on his black boots, his shoulders and his hair. And in his black-leather-gloved hands, was a red box with a green bow.

She waited by the door as he made his way towards her.

"I won't ask why you're standing in front of your flat in your pajamas," he said, eyes twinkling with amusement.  
"I wanted to wish Oliver a Merry Christmas," she answered, pointing at the general direction of Oliver's flat, knowing that she was blushing so very madly.

"I see," he grinned. And then he lifted the box in his hands towards her – and she noticed that it had holes all over. "Merry Christmas."

"What's this?" she asked, smiling lightly.

"Open it, you will like it."

"Such confidence," Hermione sent him a teasing look before pulling on the green bow until it came free, balling it and then stuffing it into her pajama pocket (she might need that bow in the future), and opened lifted the lid of the box.

And then she gasped.

At first glance it looked like a ball of snow – mind you, Draco Malfoy could still possess the presence of mind to attempt a joke like that on such an occasion – but then it moved.

Blue eyes peered up at her timidly.

It was a Norwegian Forest kitten.

Hermione was floored – one hand was over her chest and the other immediately went to cover her mouth.

"Oh my goodness," she brought a hand into the box and looked at Draco with watery eyes, "Draco, you shouldn't have …"

She picked up the kitten and drank in every single detail of the kitten with an expression akin to awe.

"He's …" she began, and then quickly checked the kitten's gender, "Yes, _he_ … Thank you, Draco."

She was at a loss of words as she stroked its fur.

"Apparently it's meant to look a little ragged when it's small, but he'll grow up to be quite beautiful," Draco said glibly.  
"Just like you, then," she joshed and laughed at Draco's affronted expression, "Come inside, I have a present for you, as well."  
"Do you?" he raised a fine eyebrow.

She set the kitten on the floor for it to explore the house before grabbing his hand and leading him inside.

"Wait, what shall I name him?"

"Berlioz, after the youngest kitten in Aristocats," Draco answered immediately.

Funny, it was as if he was expecting her to ask him that.

"Oh, alright then," she conceded, "Come on."

She brought them both to the Christmas tree and sat cross-legged on the floor opposite each other. Hermione rummaged around the tree for Draco's gift – that black package with a white bow.

She finally found it and with a triumphant sound and turned to Draco.

He watched her with warm, grey eyes and a charming smile.

"Merry Christmas, Draco," she grinned, lifting the present.  
"Thank you," he said softly and took the proffered package.

He ripped it open – _no patience_ – and revealed a collection of jazz CDs, complete with a portable CD player at the bottom.

They were old-fashioned, Hermione thought when she was purchasing them, but it was a classic – and it was relatively easier to explain to Malfoy compared to iPods and MP3 Players and the like. Maybe she'll get him those for his birthday. Or for no reason at all.

"I magically altered it myself so you can play it anywhere, especially in the Wizarding world – I did the same for the camera thing … I thought that since you loved jazz, I - "

Her words got cut off by Malfoy's warm lips crushing hers in a sinfully sweet, languorous kiss.

"Thank you, Granger," he said, biting his lip and shutting his eyes, his nose touching hers, "It's lovely." And there was that smile again.

"I'm glad," she breathed.

She smiled back at him, before both of them set out to capture each other's lips again, with Draco pulling her until she was sitting on his lap, administering little nips and bites to her lips – right there next to the Christmas tree.

Hermione savoured his kisses, not knowing how she had been waiting for this for a very long time but just that she was, and it was finally here. This was better than Christmas, better than chocolate, better than sweets, better than holidays, better than a warm bed.

And Draco smelled like adventure, he smelled like winter, he smelled like happiness and he smelled like something you never realized was intended for you from the very beginning. He smelled like _Draco_.

They were due at Harry's in a couple of hours for the Christmas party, but there was much Christmas snogging to be done with Draco first. And if they were late, she couldn't care less. Her world at that very moment consisted of one Draco Malfoy, doing wonderful things with his lips, and making her feel warm on that lovely, albeit cold Christmas morning.

**Awww.  
Epilogue up next!**


	8. Epilogue

**Rating: Suddenly M, hehehe. Just to be safe.**

_A year later, Christmas Day …_

His eyes watched her, a fire burning in them the likes of which she had never seen. But perhaps she had that same look in her eyes as well – the need to be together, to be one was so prevalent that she couldn't think properly.

Draco kissed her deeply, reacquainting his tongue with hers before licking a trail from her jawline to her neck – where he bit down hard, and Hermione's grip on his shoulder blades tightened. He attended to the bite mark with his tongue and Hermione forgot to tell him that his bite had hurt.

"Draco, we really …" Hermione trailed off as the mouth and tongue continued, wreaking havoc as it went.

Of course. _Of course_ Draco had to use that tactic to make her lose all power of rational thought.

"Draco, I said …" she tried again, and then Draco brought his mouth back up to hers and kissed her. He kissed her so thoroughly and into such a state of delirium that she _knew_, had she been standing, she would have toppled over.

Thankfully they were in bed. The bed in which Hermione refused to get in until a few minutes ago …

_"Draco, we really have to get ready, they're expecting us," Hermione cried at Draco was still half-naked on the sofa, watching some movie on the telly._

_"Who are 'they'?" He asked.  
"Um, Harry and Ron and the rest? Don't you remember? We're spending Christmas at Ron's this year. And then we agreed to babysit for Harry and Ginny while they go on holiday tomorrow onwards."_

_"Fuck," he said, and Hermione blushed at the sudden visual at the word exiting his mouth. Hmm._

_He stood up and stretched leisurely, exposing his lean frame and strong back to Hermione – who had been eyeing him like a vulture ever since he got up. _

_Draco Malfoy was sexy. Very, very sexy._

_She watched him, drinking in every detail and burning them into her memory. Somewhere during her Draco-watching, some barely audible sounds issued from the general direction of Draco's mouth._

_"Huh what?" she shook her head and tried to fight the oncoming blush._

_From the look that Draco was currently giving her, she knew she had failed._

_"What are you thinking about there?" he asked, advancing towards her – slowly, quietly, and gracefully – like a feline … a panther._

_"I'm thinking you should get ready and put some clothes on," she lied, looking away.  
"No, you're thinking that I should get these off," he said before pulling on the drawstrings of his pajama bottoms._

_"Draco, we don't have time for that," she said resolutely.  
"Time for what, exactly?" he grinned like a shark at beach party, all the while walking towards her, oozing sexual appeal from head to toe – until she was backed against a wall._

_Holy shit, that should have been criminal._

_"Malfoy, really. We don't have time for this," she rolled her eyes, but she knew what she wanted.  
"Why, we always have time for this," he said, words sounding like sin on his lips and he pressed his body against hers, "Granger."_

_And then he kissed her – luxuriously, lazily, lovingly with well-practiced finesse … and a flood of abashed red invaded her face at his ministrations._

_"Isn't that right, darling?" he whispered into her ear, tongue flicking out to lick her earlobe._

_A whimper from her was the only thing Draco needed before hoisting her up with his arms and dumping her onto their bed._

Within a few minutes, Draco had got her naked and laid out on the bed like a delicacy. At this point of time, Hermione couldn't give a damn. She was doing a terrific job at melting into the sheets, so where was the harm? They would only be a _little _late …

His hands were _everyfuckingwhere_ and she couldn't resist doing the same. His hand hooked underneath one of her knees and he pushed himself against her – and she pressed back against his hardness.

She quickly scrambled forward and pulled his pajama bottoms down.

"Just do it already," she hissed.  
"Eager or you just don't want to be late?" he sent her a smug grin.

Using her legs as leverage, she quickly flipped them both so that she was on top of him – a surprised look on his face.

"Both," she grinned and sunk herself into him as she kissed him, making them both groan in pleasure. His hands went to her hips in a bruising grip, steadying her.

"Don't worry, love," he grinned devilishly while panting, "This will be really quick -"

And then all of a sudden, he flipped her onto her back again with a surprised 'oomph' and a moan of appreciation from her – back to back – it was an odd sound – and he started thrusting in earnest.

"_Draco!"_ she called out, eyes rolling to the back of her head in pleasure as one hand gripped the sheets at the foot of the bed and the other making half-crescent marks on Draco's back.

She babbled nonsense, chanted _DracoDracoDracoDraco_ and arched her back as Draco moved so gracefully, so precisely and it had her keening and near the end so very quickly.

The grip he had on her thighs was so hard, she wouldn't be surprised if there bruises, and also wouldn't be surprised if there was blood on her nails after they finished but she really couldn't –

"_OH!" _she screamed, and the reply was a dark chuckle from Draco.

"Yes, that's it," he whispered into her ear, pushing her to the edge. "Come on."

Hermione's moans were getting louder and louder and –

"That's it," Draco cooed.

And with a loud, piercing cry of _"DRACO!" _she came and came and came, back arching, body trembling uncontrollably as Draco watched her and soothed her through the entire thing. Draco followed a mere second later, biting his lip as every muscle in his body went taut.

He collapsed on top of her and Hermione held him close through his release.

After a few minutes of basking in post-coital bliss, something jumped on top of the bed. It was Berlioz, fully grown now. Hermione brought a tired hand to stroke the fur on top of his head before he settled down next to them to sleep.

"We're already late," Hermione said a few moments later, her arms still wrapped around Draco tightly.  
"Hmmm," came the grunt from Draco.

She began stroking his hair lightly, waiting.

Waiting for it – that sound.

After a couple more moments of endless stroking of his hair, there it was.

_Purr. Purr. Purr._

And it wasn't coming from Berlioz.

Hermione smiled.

Well, what do you know, the real Malfoy purrs, too.

They were late, and they had to think of an excuse that didn't sound too suspicious and they might get into trouble – but Hermione didn't care.

Draco, Berlioz and everything else around her at that moment were … just paw-sitively purr-fect.

**END!  
Merry Christmas in advance!**

**Much love to you!**


End file.
